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Drawn  by  Sol  Ey tinge. 

"HERE'S  A  POOR  CREATURE  AND  HER  BABY  FREEZING  TO  DEATH." — 


CIPHER: 


A  ROMANCE. 


——"Like  a  0,  which  means  much  or  nothing,  as  you  use  it* 


BY  JANE  G.  AUSTIN 


NEW  YORK: 
SHELDON  &  COMPANY. 

1869. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1869,  by  SHELDON  &  COVPAMV,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of 
the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  V  rk. 


A  FEW  WORDS  PREFATORY  AND  DEDICATORY. 

MY  DEAR  L: 

Do  you  remember  standing  with  me  upon  the 
bridge,  and  tossing  chip  boats  into  the  river,  and  how  eagerly  we 
watched  to  see  which  should  drift  ashore,  or  wreck  themselves 
against  the  stone  pier,  or  remain  idle  and  motionless  in  the  eddy 
pool,  and  which  should  glide  safely  through  the  arch  and  down  the 
smooth  stream  beyond  ? 

Come,  now,  and  help  me  launch  another  venture,  the  little  craft 
called  "  Cipher,"  whose  construction  you  have  watched  with  such 
ready  sympathy  and  interest,  and  to  whose  freight  you  have  so 
largely  contributed.  What  is  to  be  its  fate  ?  Will  it  be  stranded, 
or  shattered,  or  left  idly  in  the  pool,  or  run  down  by  heavier  craft, 
or  sunk  by  the  missiles  of  those  wicked  boys  upon  the  other  bank  ? 
Shall  we  call  to  the  boys  and  deprecate  their  attack  by  a  confession 
that  our  little  boat  is  not  an  iron-clad  war  vessel,  much  less  our 
final  idea  of  an  elegant  yacht,  and  that  even  for  a  chip  boat  she 
has  been  almost  spoiled  by  over-whittling  ?  No,  never  mind  the 
boys  ;  let  us  say  nothing  at  all  to  them,  but,  standing  hand  in  hand, 
watch  together  the  fortunes  of  our  little  craft,  thanking  God  that, 
should  she  sink  or  should  she  swim,  she  does  not  carry  our  lives  or 
our  happiness  with  her. 

J.  G.  A. 

Concord,  Mass.,  April,  1869. 


CIPHER: 

A  NOVEL. —  PART  FIRST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MR.   GILLIES'S   FIRST   LETTER, 

«  <  T  Q.  A.  GILLIES,  Post-Office.'  Why,  here's  a  letter  for  Mr.  Gillies. 
I  •  First  one  that  ever  I  see  !  " 

The  scene  was  the  interior  of  a  city  post-office,  the  speaker  a  carrier  or  post- 
man, who  stood  at  one  end  of  a  long  table  assorting  a  heap  of  letters  thrown  there 
for  him  to  arrange  and  distribute. 

The  clerk  whom  he  addressed  paused  a  moment  in  his  occupation  of  can- 
celling the  stamps  upon  a  mountain  of  outward-bound  letters  and  glanced  at  the 
one  in  the  hand  of  the  carrier. 

"  For  Gillies,  sure  enough,  and  as  you  say,  the  first  one  I  ever  knew  of  his 
getting.  There  he  is,  making  up  the  northern  mail.  You'd  better  hand  it  over." 

"  Let's  see  what  he'll  say  to  it,"  remarked  the  carrier,  crossing  the  office  and 
approaching  another  table  covered  with  letters  and  packages,  where  stood  a 
middle-aged  man,  with  stooping  shoulders  and  the  sallow  complexion  peculiar 
to  men  and  plants  grown  in  the  shade. 

He  was  busy  in  folding  small  parcels  of  the  letters  before  him  in  wrappers, 
announcing  their  contents  at  the  same  time  in  a  voice  whose  sonorous  sweetness 
contrasted  even  grotesquely  with  his  appearance,  while  a  clerk  opposite  rapidly 
entered  the  list  thus  dictated  in  a  large  volume,  and  two  assistants  tied  and 
"backed  "  or  docketed  the  little  packages. 

"Barnstable,  N.  H.,  twenty-seven,  nine,  three." 

"  Biddeford,  Maine,  six,  two,"  intoned  the  yellow  man. 

"  A  letter  for  you,  Mr.  Gillies,"  interposed  the  carrier,  tossing  it  upon  the 
table. 

"  Not  for  me.  Never  have  letters.  Benson,  Vermont,  twelve,  four  " — chanted 
the  clerk. 

"You're  J.  Q.  A.  Gillies,  I  expect,  aren't  you?"  asked  the  carrier,  a  little 
indignantly,  as  he  caught  up  the  letter  and  thrust  it  under  the  eyes  of  the  impas- 
sive Gillies,  who  was  already  reciting, 


6  CIPHER. 

"Carringlon  Centre,  Vermont,  three,  twelve,  three." 

As  the  letter  was  thus  abruptly  interposed  between  his  eyes  and  the  package 
already  completed  beneath  his  nimble  fingers,  he  cast  a  hurried  glance  and  then 
a  steady  look  at  it,  while  an  expression  of  astonishment,  even  of  alarm,  crossed 
his  face. 

"John  Q.  A.  Gillies,  yes,  that's  my  name,  but  it  can't  be  for  me.  I  never 
have  letters,'  said  he,  reluctantly. 

"  Three,  twelve,  three  unpaid,"  murmured  the  entering  clerk,  repeating  the 
last  call  and  glancing  impatiently  from  the  long  rows  of  unentered  letters  to  the 
clock  above  his  head. 

"  You've  got  one  now,  anyway.  There  it  is,"  and  the  carrier  tossed  it  again 
upon  the  table,  while  Mr.  Gillies  hurriedly  called, 

"  Charlestown,  N.  H.,  thirty-six,  twelve,  nine,  I  would  say  nine,  Mr.  Blodgett." 

"  Nine,"  echoed  the  entering  clerk,  and  with  one  eye  upon  his  book  he  cast 
the  other  in  astonishment  at  Vance,  the  "backer."  Mr.  Gillies  for  once  had 
made  a  mistake,  and  Blodgett  and  Vance  felt  a  natural  satisfaction  in  the  oc- 
currence. 

The  entering  went  on,  but  not  so  serenely  as  before.  That  thick  yellow  letter 
with  its  bold  address  lay  upon  the  table,  staring  into  Mr.  Gillies's  face  so  per- 
sistently that  he  could  not  choose  but  return  its  glances,  and  even  when  the 
course  of  operations  had  carried  him  halfway  down  the  table,  his  eyes  travelled 
incessantly  to  the  end  where  it  lay  alone  and  conspicuous. 

"  Montpelier,  Vermont,  twenty-one,  seven." 

"John  Q.  A.  Gil —  I  beg  your  pardon,  Blodgett.  I  meant  Merrifield,  Ver- 
mont, six,  two,"  called  Gillies,  hurriedly. 

Blodgett  and  Vance  tittered,  and  the  first  suggested,  good-naturedly, 

"  You're  thinking  of  your  letter,  sir,  aren't  you !  " 

"  It's  not  for  me.     I  never  have  letters.     Attention,  Vance." 

"  Rockport,  Maine,  six,  two." 

And  from  this  point  John  Q.  A.  Gillies  no  longer  suffered  his  attention  to 
wander  beyond  the  business  in  hand,  but  kept  himself  and  his  assistants  s{ 
closely  to  it  that  the  northern  mail  on  that  Friday  evening  was  made  up  at  least  five 
minutes  before  its  usual  time.  Gillies  closed  and  locked  the  bag,  and  watched, 
in  an  abstracted  sort  of  way,  the  porter  who  took  it  upon  his  back  and  carried  it 
to  the  entrance,  ready  for  the  expressman. 

Then  he  turned,  still  thoughtfully,  and  taking  up  the  letter,  studied  the  ad- 
dress as  if  it  had  been  a  hieroglyph  ;  examined  the  post-mark  ;  looked  for  a  seal, 
and  found  none,  and  finally  murmured, 

"A  drop  letter.     If  I  open  it  I  can  tell  who  it's  for,  perhaps.     It  isn't  me." 

But  yet  he  threw  it  down  again,  and  looked  about  to  see  if  his  services  were 
not  needed  somewhere  ;  if  some  one  was  not  coming  to  speak  to  him  ;  if  some 
other  John  Q.  A.  Gillies  was  not  looming  up  from  the  horizon.  No  such  deliv- 
erance was  at  hand,  however,  and,  with  a  sudden  flutter  of  womanish  curiosity, 
the  middle-aged  clerk,  who  had  hardly  in  his  whole  life  seen  a  letter  addressed 
to  himself,  tore  open  this  one. 

The  contents  were  brief  and  sufficiently  clear  : 

"  If  Mr.  John  Q.  A.  Gillies  will  call  at  the  rooms  of  Jones,  Brown  &  Robinson, 
solicitors,  at  his  earliest  convenience,  he  will  hear  of  something  to  his  ad- 
vantage." 


CIPHER.  7 

CHAPTER  II. 

AN   OLD   MAN'S   LAST   ODDITY. 

AT  nine  o'clock  of  the  next  morning  a  dubious  knock  upon  the  outer  door  of 
Messrs.  Jones,  Brown  &  Robinson's  chambers  elicited  a  gruff  "  Come  in,"  from 
Robinson,  who  being  the  youngest  and  worst  paid  of  the  firm,  was  expected  to 
give  the  most  time  and  do  the  most  work. 

"It's  not  for  me,  of  course,  but" — confided  Mr.  Gillies  to  the  door,  as  he 
pushed  it  open  and  stood  dumb  before  the  gruff-voiced  Robinson,  who  was 
chafing  his  numb  fingers  over  the  stove. 

"  Good  morning,  sir.  Are  you  looking  for  one  of  the  firm  ?  I'm  Robinson," 
announced  the  lawyer,  concisely,  for  the  tall  yellow  man  with  the  dubious  look 
did  not  strike  him  as  a  good  investment  for  much  politeness. 

'•'Yes,  sir.  I  was  looking  for  one  of  the  firm,  although  I'm  sorry  to  trouble 
you  for  nothing —  " 

"  Heavens  !  what  a  voice  the  fellow 's  got.  A  splendid  baritone.  Should 
like  to  hear  him  try  '  Suoni  la  TrombaJ  "  thought  Mr.  Robinson,  who  was  a  bit  of 
an  amateur  in  musical  matters.  But  he  said : 

"  No  trouble  ;  no  trouble,  sir.     Take  a  seat.     You  were  saying —  ? " 

"  I  got  this  letter  last  night.  It  is  directed  in  my  name,  but  I  suppose  there 
is  some  mistake.  I  can't  think  that  anybody  knows  of  anything  to  my  advan- 
tage. /  don't." 

Mr.  Robinson's  professionally  quick  eyes  traversed  the  face,  figure,  and  out- 
ward adornment  of  the  person  so  quietly  uttering  this  forlorn  sentiment,  and 
then  fell  upon  the  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  yes.     Mr.  Gillies,  I  presume?" 

"  My  name  is  Gillies,"  admitted  the  clerk,  dubiously. 

"  Of  course.  And  this  is  your  address  ?  "  pursued  the  lawyer,  rustling  the 
letter. 

"  Yes.  That  is,  I  am  in  the  post-office,  and  my  name  is  John  Q.  Adams 
Gillies." 

"  Certainly.  I  made  a  few  inquiries  of  Mr.  Postmaster before  sending 

this  letter.  It's  all  right,  Mr.  Gillies,  I  assure  you.  Step  this  way." 

And  Mr.  Robinson  led  the  way  to  the  inner  office,  pointed  to  a  seat  beside 
the  desk,  and  disposed  himself  in  the  arm-chair  before  it. 

John  Gillies  looked  troubled  and  anxious.  For  five-and-forty  years  he  had 
led  an  existence  so  completely  isolated,  his  life  had  been  so  barren  of  any  tie  or 
interest  beyond  his  own  welfare  that  even  the  slight  excitement  of  receiving  a 
letter  could,  as  we  have  seen,  unnerve  and  distress  him,  and  now  the  matter 
seemed  assuming  an  importance  that  terrified  him.  He  wished  for  no  news,  good 
or  bad  ;  he  wished  for  no  meddling  eyes  and  fingers  in  his  affairs,  even  though 
they  promised  advantage.  The  man  felt,  in  the  hands  of  this  shrewd  lawyer,  as 
an  oyster  should,  into  whose  shell  a  lobster  insists  upon  thrusting  a  claw,  with 
promise  that  the  interference  shall  result  in  nothing  but  good. 

"  I  don't  think  I'd  better  sit  down.  I  am  sure  it  is  some  other  Gillies  that 
you  mean." 

"  No,  it's  not.  Sit  down,  sit  down,  sir,  and  I'll  give  you  the  whole  story  in  a 
nutshell,"  insisted  the  lawyer,  and  the  clerk  slipped  into  the  designated  seat  as 
if  it  had  been  a  dentist's  chair. 

The  lawyer  opened  his  note  book. 


8  CIPHER. 

"  Perhaps  you  remember,  Mr.  Gillies,  one  very  icy  day  last  winter,  when  an 
old  gentleman  passing  up  the  post-office  steps  in  front  of  you,  slipped,  and  in 
falling  fractured  his  collar-bone.  You  helped  him  up,  called  a  carriage,  and  at 
his  desire  drove  with  him  to  his  hotel.  You  then,  still  at  his  request,  sent  a  sur- 
geon, and  in  the  evening  returned  to  inquire  for  him." 

"  Mr.  Vaughn,  you  mean." 

"  Reginald  Vaughn,  Esquire,  late  of " 

"  He's  dead  then  ?     Excuse  my  interruption." 

Mr.  Robinson  bowed  stiffly,  implying  that  he  excused,  but  did  not  approve 
of  it,  and  after  a  significant  pause,  as  waiting  for  further  remarks  from  the  client, 
continued, 

"  You  called  twice  aftenvard  by  Mr.  Vaughn's  express  desire,  and  went  with 
him  to  the  steamer  when  he  left  for  Europe.  He  died  in  London  six  weeks  ago, 
and  just  before  his  death  dictated  an  instrument  bequeathing  all  his  property  to 
John  Q.  Adams  Gillies,  clerk  in  the  post-office  of  this  city.  That  gentleman  is 
undoubtedly  yourself,  and  you  will  please  receive  my  congratulations  upon  your 
accession  of  fortune." 

John  Gillies  leaned  his  sallow  face  upon  his  hand,  and  looked  moodily  into 
the  fire. 

"  It  was  contrary  to  my  usual  habit  to  make  these  calls.  I  only  did  it  because 
I  was  asked,  and  the  old  man  said  something  about  being  lonely  and  deserted. 
As  for  picking  him  up  and  taking  him  home,  I  couldn't  help  that,  of  course." 

"Why,  surely,  man,  you're  not  sorry  for  having  induced  Mr.  Vaughn  to  think 
of  you  as  his  legatee?"  asked  Mr.  Robinson,  rather  impatiently.  "If  it  is  your 
situation  in  the  post-office  that  you  are  regretting,  I  see  no  necessity  for  your 
resigning  it.  Probably,  too,  you  can  sell  the  estate.  Stop,  1  should  give  you 
this  packet  forwarded  with  the  will,  and  addressed  to  yourself.  In  a  letter  to 
us,  written  at  the  same  time,  Mr.  Vaughn  speaks  of  it  as  containing  important 
conditions  connected  with  the  inheritance.  Here  it  is." 

"  Another  letter,"  muttered  John  Gillies,  as  he  reluctantly  took  a  sealed  en- 
velope from  the  lawyer's  hand. 

The  letter  it  contained  was  not  a  long  one,  but  Mr.  Robinson  had  time  to 
lose  and  regain  his  patience  and  to  lose  it  again,  before  his  new  client,  slowly 
re-folding  the  paper,  placed  it  in  the  envelope  and  the  envelope  in  his  pocket. 

"  Well  ! "  said  the  lawyer  at  length,  for  Mr.  Gillies,  his  chin  buried  in  his 
hand,  seemed  less  and  less  likely  to  break  the  silence. 

*'Well !  "  echoed  he,  rather  irritably.  "But  it  is  not  well.  If  I  accept  this 
property  under  the  conditions  imposed  upon  me  the  consequence  will  be  an  en- 
tire revolution  of  my  life.  I  am  to  make  this  estate  of  Cragness  my  home,  and 
for  company " 

The  lawyer  waited  for  the  next  word,  but  John  Gillies's  dry  lips  closed  over 
it  before  it  could  escape,  and  when  they  unclosed  it  was  to  say, 

"  You  were  Mr.  Vaughn's  legal  adviser,  were  you  not  ?  " 

"Yes.     Our  firm  has  managed  the  affairs  of  the  Vaughns  for  fifty  years." 

"  Probably,  then,  you  can  give  me  some  history  of  the  family." 

"  Legal  and  medical  advisers  do  not  generally  gossip  of  the  affairs  of  their 
clients,"  said  Mr.  Robinson,  drily. 

"  Certainly  not,  but  if  I  assume  this  property,  I  assume  with  it  a  trust  requir- 
ing as  minute  an  acquaintance  with  the  history  of  the  Vaughn  family  as  I  can 
acquire." 


CIPHER.  9 

"  Does  the  late  Reginald  Vaughn  desire  you  to  apply  to  me  for  this  history  ?  ' 
asked  Mr.  Robinson,  cautiously. 

"In  so  many  words." 

"  Will  you  show  me  the  letter  expressing  this  desire  ?" 

"  I  will  show  you  that  sentence.  The  body  of  the  letter  is  intended  for  my 
private  eye." 

"  An  odd  man — a  very  odd  man  was  the  late  Reginald  Vaughn,"  muttered  the 
lawyer,  as  John  Gillies  again  drew  the  envelope  from  his  pocket,  and  slowly  un- 
folding the  letter,  doubled  it  so  as  to  leave  only  two  lines  fully  exposed  to  view. 

"  Nothing  could  be  odder  than  his  putting  this  trust  and  this  property  upon 
me,  and  I  had  far  rather  have  been  left  quiet  where  I  was,"  said  the  clerk,  mood- 
ily. "  But  even  though  I  refused  the  whole  affair,  and  went  back  to  the  post- 
office  as  poor  as  I  left  it,  the  mischief  is  done.  My  ideas  have  got  a  wrench  that> 
has  unfitted  them  for  their  old  groove.  I  should  always  be  wondering  why  I 
didn't  accept  fortune  when  it  came  to  me,  and  fancying  a  thousand  pleasures  it 
might  have  brought  with  it.  And  then  this — this  trust — interests  me." 

He  paused  rather  abruptly,  and  the  lawyer  ventured, 

"  It  is  a  secret  trust,  you  say." 

"  Entirely  a  secret  trust,"  assented  Gillies,  gravely,  "  and  as  such  I  accept 
it,  and  with  it  the  bequest  of  Reginald  Vaughn,  and  the  utter  change  of  life  in- 
volved in  it.  Here  is  the  letter." 

Mr.  Robinson  took  the  paper  and  read — 

"  If  you  wish  for  such  help  as  is  to  be  found  in  a  history  of  my  family,  you 
may  obtain  it  from  either  member  of  the  firm  of  Jones,  Brown  &  Robinson,  our 
solicitors  for  many  years." 

"That  is  quite  sufficient,  Mr.  Gillies,  and  I  will  gladly  place  such  knowledge 
as  I  have  at  your  service,"  said  the  lawyer,  returning  the  letter. 

Mr.  Gillies  simply  bowed  with  the  reluctant  air  which  had  accompanied  him 
through  the  interview,  and  the  solicitor,  after  a  moment  of  thought,  began  the 
following  narrative. 


CHAPTER     III. 

CRAGNESS   AND   BONNIEMEER. 

"  THEY  are  an  old  family,  these  Vaughns,  and  as  proud  of  their  honors  as 
other  old  and  well-to-do  families.  They  have  a  genealogical  tree  at  Bonniemeer 
as  tall  as  one  of  those  California  pines,  and  a  crest  on  the  silver,  and  all  that. 
Something  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  Egbert  Vaughn,  a  younger  son  of  the 
English  family  of  that  name,  came  to  this  country  and  built  the  old  house  you 
have  inherited,  giving  it  the  name  of  Cragness.  He  died,  leaving  one  son,  also 
called  Egbert,  who  in  due  time  married  a  cousin  upon  the  Vaughn  side,  and 
became  father  of  two  sons,  named  Egbert  and  Alfred.  His  first  wife  died  when 
these  boys  were  twelve  and  fourteen  years  old ;  and  he  married  again,  but  lost 
his  second  wife  in  the  first  year  of  their  marriage.  She  left  one  son,  named  Regi- 
nald, who  died  in  London  six  weeks  since." 

"  He  was  this  Mr.  Vaughn?"  asked  John  Gillies,  tapping  with  his  dry  fore- 
finger upon  the  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  He  was  that  Mr.  Vaughn,"  assented  Robinson  ;  "  but  while  Reginald  was 
still  a  child  the  two  elder  brothers  grew  to  be  men,  and  very  quarrelsome  men, 
too.  At  least,  they  could  never  agree  with  each  other,  or  with  their  father,  who 


ro  CIPHER. 

favored  sometimes  one  and  sometimes  the  other  of  them,  but  fixed  all  his  affec- 
tions upon  Reginald,  whose  mother  he  had  doted  on  with  an  old  man's  fondness. 

"  Matters  finally  came  to  a  crisis  among  them,  and,  after  a  violent  quarrel, 
Alfred  Vaughn  left  Cragness,  and  subsequently  died  abroad.  At  the  time  of  his 
disappearance,  his  father  came  to  town  and  executed  a  bill  bequeathing  the  estate 
of  Cragness  and  the  personals  to  his  youngest  son,  and  all  the  remainder  of  his 
property,  principally  derived  from  the  first  wife,  to  Egbert,  his  eldest  son.  Al- 
fred was  barely  mentioned,  and  received  no  bequest.  Soon  after  this,  Egbert 
was  married  ;  and,  persuading  his  father  to  make  over  to  him  his  promised 
inheritance,  he  built  a  handsome  house  upon  the  property  of  Bonniemeer,  and 
settled  there,  keeping  up  but  little  communication  with  the  father,  who,  with  his 
youngest  son,  lived  for  a  few  years  at  Cragness  in  a  very  secluded  manner,  and 
,  then  died,  leaving  Reginald  in  possession. 

"  He,  then  a  young  man  of  two  or  three-and-twenty,  went  immediately 
abroad  and  spent  many  years  in  travel.  Finally,  however,  he  returned  home, 
stiyed  a  short  time  at  Bonniemeer,  and  then  retired  to  his  own  estate,  where  he 
lived  a  very  secluded  life  until  a  year  or  so  before  his  death,  when  he  came  to 
town  and  sent  for  our  Mr.  Jones,  who  had  an  interview  with  him  at  his  hotel, 
and  who  expressed  himself  not  surprised  at  Mr.  Vaughn's  recent  disposition  of 
his  property." 

A  slight  smile  wrinkled  John  Jillies's  yellow  cheeks.  He  saw  that  the  younger 
lawyer  was  piqued  at  the  preference  thus  shown  to  his  partner. 

"  Mr.  Jones  desired,  however,  that  either  Mr.  Brown  or  myself  should  see 
you  when  you  came,"  continued  Robinson,  "and  declined  an  interview  on  his 
own  part,  so  whatever  private  clue  he  may  have  to  Mr.  Vaughn's  motives  does 
not  seem  likely  to  benefit  your  researches." 

"And  what  became  of  Mr.  Egbert  Vaughn?"  inquired  John  Gillies,  tena- 
ciously clinging  to  the  point. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Gillies,  but  are  not  you  a  Scotchman  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me  in  turn,  Mr.  Robinson,  but  had  not  we  better  finish  the  Vaughn 
genealogy  before  we  begin  upon  mine  ? " 

Mr.  Robinson  glanced  with  increasing  disfavor  at  his  new  client,  but  an- 
swered, coldly : 

"  You  are  quite  right,  sir.  Mr.  Egbert  Vaughn  married,  as  I  have  said,  and 
became  the  father  of  several  children,  who  all  died  young,  except  a  daughter, 
now  married  to  Alfred  Murray,  Esq.,  of  this  city,  and  a  son,  named  Frederic, 
who,  at  his  father's  demise  some  years  since,  inherited  the  estate  of  Bonniemeer, 
where  he  at  present  resides  with  his  wife,  a  young  lady  from  the  Southern 
States.  He  has  as  yet  no  children." 

"  Then  this  Mr.  Frederic  Vaughn  and  his  sister  are  the  only  representatives 
of  the  family  now  alive  ?  " 

"  So  far  as  I  know,  they  are,"  assented  the  lawyer. 

"  How  far  apart  are  the  houses  of  Bonniemeer  and  Cragness  ? " 

"  About  two  miles,  and  each  of  them  nearly  that  distance  from  Carrick,  the 
nearest  village.  They  are  both  secluded  enough.  fl  belie  ;e  I  have  now  given 
you  all  the  information  in  my  possession  regardirg  this  fan.ily,  Mr.  Gillies.  Can 
we  be  of  any  further  service  ? " 

"  I  thank  you,  sir.  I  may  very  possibly  require  your  help  in  this  affair  before 
long  ;  "  and  the  cloud  of  perplexity  upon  the  clerk's  face  grew  still  darker.  "  I 
cannot  tell — at  any  rate  you  will,  if  you  please,  take  whatever  legal  measures  ara 


CIPHER.  ii 

necessary  for  establishing  this  will,  and  putting  me  in  possession  of  the  property 
I  shall  be  glad  to  consider  your  firm  as  my  legal  advisers." 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Gillies,  if  you  feel  inclined  to  honor  us  with  your  confidence,' 
said  Robinson,  formally. 

"You  mean  that  I  have  not  yet  done  so,"  retorted  Gillies,  as  drily.  "You 
are  quite  welcome  to  all  I  know  of  myself,  which  is  just  this.  I  was  selected 
from  the  inmates  of  a  foundling  hospital  by  a  man  named  Gillies,  a  bachelor, 
with  not  a  friend  or  connection  in  the  world,  so  far  as  I  know.  He  did  not  seem 
to  care  very  much  about  me,  although  he  treated  me  kindly  and  sent  me  to  a 
public  school  until  I  was  twelve  years  old.  At  that  time  I  entered  the  post- 
office  where  Gillies  was  a  clerk.  He  died  soon  after,  and  I  rose  through  regu- 
lar gradations  until  I  reached  my  present  position.  I  am  now  forty-five  years 
old,  and,  as  I  told  you  before,  have  never  been  out  of  the  city  bounds  except  for 
a  country  walk,  which  wearied  and  disgusted  me.  I  am  fond  of  only  one  thing 
in  the  world — music.  I  dislike  nothing.  You  have  my  history." 

Mr.  Robinson  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  And  you  are  going  to  live  at  Cragness  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  I  am  going  there.     Farther  I  cannot  say." 

"  But  how  will  a  man  of"  your  tastes  and  habits  content  himself  in  a  solitary 
sea-shore  house.  How  will  you  amuse  yourself  ?" 

"  I  will' have  an  organ,"  said  John  Gillies,  softly,  as  a  tinge  of  color  rose  to 
his  sallow  cheek,  a  sign  in  this  impassive  nature  of  rare  and  overpowering  emo- 
tion. "  The  one  wish  of  my  life  has  been  to  possess  a  fine  organ.  I  will  have 
the  best  in  Germany." 

"  Shake  hands,  Mr.  Gillies.  I  am  a  musical  enthusiast  also,  and  you  must 
come  to  my  house  to-night ;  we  have  a  few  friends  and  a  little  concert.  I  think 
you  will  be  pleased  with  some  of  the  voices." 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  never  visit,"  said  Gillies,  slightly  touching  the  proffered 
hand,  and  rising  to  go. 

"As  you  please,  of  course;  but  I  should  have  been  glad  to  see  you,"  and  the 
lawyer  showed  his  new  client  to  the  door,  with  a  smile  upon  his  lips  and  a  curse 
in  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  MERMAID'S  CAVE. 

THE  village  of  Carrick  was  a  place  of  few  excitements.  The  departure  or 
arrival  of  the  three  fishing  schooners  whose  several  firms  embraced  every  person 
of  consequence  in  the  hamlet ;  an  occasional  wreck  upon  the  ragged  reef  forming 
the  harbor;  a  small  jubilation  on  election  or  "Independence"  clay;  these  were 
its  principal  public  events. 

A  smaller  but  more  frequent  interest,  however,  centred  in  the  semi-weekly 
arrival  of  the  mail  coach  forming  the  only  communication  between  Carrick  and 
the  outer  world.  Even  to  see  it  whirling  down  the  sandy  street  was  something, 
but  the  knowledge  that  it  bore  the  lean  mail-bag,  perhaps  a  passenger,  perhaps 
some  dim  report  of  news  affecting,  it  might  be,  the  fishing  interest,  it  might  be 
the  less  vital  affairs  of  state,  was  sufficient  to  attract  every  male  idler  of  Car- 
rick to  the  tavern  of  the.  Mermaid's  Cave,  where  it  stopped  for  change  of  horses  ; 
while  every  woman  in  town  paused  with  her  pies  half  in  the  oven,  her  baby  yet 
unwhipped,  her  coffee  "  on  the  bile,"  to  rush  to  the  door  and  stand  on  tiptoe  staring 


12  CIPHER. 

down  the  street  as  if  the  Possibility,  for  whose  advent  most  of  us  wait  all  our 
lives,  were  booked  to  her  by  that  especial  coach. 

Never,  perhaps,  had  the  constancy  of  these  idlers  been  more  severely  tested 
than  on  the  afternoon  of  a  certain  dismal  December  day  when  the  coach,  delayed 
by  a  furious  storm  of  snow  and  hail,  so  far  passed  its  usual  hour  of  arrival  that 
the  dinner  prepared  for  the  passengers  was,  as  Mrs.  Burroughs,  landlady  of  the 
Mermaid's  Cave,  remarked,  "dried  to  a skillington,  and  had  no  more  taste  left  in 
it  than  last  year's  seaweed." 

"  The  worse  for  them  as  has  to  eat  and  pay  for  it,"  retorted  her  lord,  phil- 
osophically. "  But  keep  it  hot,  Jemima,  she'll  be  here  yet.  Billings  never  failed 
to  get  through  somehow,  and  whoever  he  brings  will  be  hungry  enough  to  eat 
biled  hake  'thout  gravy." 

"There's  the  supper  horn  for  some  on  us,"  said  one  of  the  loungers  about  the 
bar-room  stove,  as  the  blatant  tones  of  a  fish-horn  pierced  the  gathering  darkness 
without,  and  angrily  seemed  to  demand  an  answer. 

"Reckon  it's  mine,"  remarked  Reuben  Brume,  with  a  somewhat  uneasy  grin. 
"  But  I'll  hold  on  a  spell  for  the  stage.  She  can't  be  much  longer,  and  I  guess 
my  woman  '11  keep  a  bite  and  a  sup  for  me." 

"  More  like  she'll  give  you  the  bite  without  the  sup,"  retorted  Burroughs,  who 
like  most  magnates  was  fond  of  a  joke  at  the  expense  of  his  courtiers. 

A  general  laugh  followed  his  present  jibe,  for  Nancy  Brume's  proficiency  as 
a  scold  was  well' known  throughout  the  village. 

"  What's  the  joke  ?  I  don't  see  none,"  asked  Brume,  angrily.  "  Some  folks 
laughs  as  a  loon  squawks,  jest  to  make  a  pooty  noise." 

"  It  takes  wit  to  see  wit,  Reub.  You'd  better  jest  laugh  when  other  folks  do, 
'thout  trying  to  see  why,"  replied  the  landlord,  with  a  wink  to  his  neighbor. 

Brume,  far  from  mollified  by  this  suggestion,  was  still  cudgelling  his  dull 
brain  for  a  retort,  when  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  a  smart  young  fellow, 
whip  in  hand,  entered  the  room  and  strode  up  to  the  bar. 

"A  glass  of  toddy,  Burroughs,  as  quick  as  you've  a  mind  to  make  it.  It's 
cold  enough  outside  to  freeze  your  mermaid's  tail  off.  Don't  you  hear  her 
screeching  ?  " 

The  dismal  groan  of  the  sign  vibrating  upon  its  rusty  pintles  accompanied  the 
question,  and  Reuben  Brume,  finding  the  laugh  diverted  from  himself,  gave  up 
the  desperate  search  for  a  retort,  and  asked,  instead, 

"  Did  you  see  anything  of  the  stage,  James  ?  " 

"Yes,  it's  lumbering  into  the  village.  I  brought  down  a  horse  for  Mr. 
Vaughn  to  ride  home.  It  wasn't  worth  while  to  try  wheels  nor  yet  a  sleigh, 
such  going  as  we've  got  to-night." 

"  Is  he  coming  in  the  stage  ?"  asked  the  landlady,  in  some  excitement. 

"  Yes.  He  drove  the  horses  up  three  days  ago,  but  said  if  it  stormed  bad  he 
should  come  down  in  the  stage  and  I  was  to  meet  him  here  with  a  cutter.  Here 
they  come." 

A  shout  and  the  crack  of  a  whip  were  heard  at  this  moment,  and  the  inmates 
of  the  bar-room  rushed  in  a  body  out  upon  the  stoopat  the  front  door,  in  time  to 
see  the  driver  check  his  reeking  horses  and  clamber  stiffly  from  his  box. 

"  It's  some  cold,  Billings,  ain't  it?"  suggested  Burroughs. 

"  You  put  this  old  concern  down  to  Wylcle's  to-night,  and  see  if  ye're  as 
chirk  when  you  git  there  as  you  be  now,"  retorted  the  driver,  grimly,  while  he 
threw  open  the  coach  door  and  turned  down  the  step. 


CIPHER.  13 

"  Carrick.  Stop  for  dinner,"  briefly  announced  he,  and  then  leaving  his 
horses  to  the  stable  boy,  and  his  passengers  to  the  landlord  or  to  fate,  he  pushed 
through  the  group  of  idlers,  and  entering  the  deserted  bar,  mixed  himself  a  stiff 
glass  of  spirits  and  water. 

From  the  coach  descended  first  a  well-formed  and  handsome  young  man,  ap- 
parently about  twenty-five  years  old,  who,  nodding  good-humoredly  to  the  spec- 
tators, followed  the  driver  into  the  house.  Close  behind  him  appeared  the 
stooping  figure,  yellow  face,  and  rounded  shoulders  of  a  tall  man,  who,  slowly 
extricating  himself  from  the  coach,  and  rising  to  his  full  stature,  remained  an  in- 
stant staring  disconcertedly  about  him. 

"Won't  you  walk  in,  sir?"  asked  the  landlord,  rubbing  his  hands  and 
shivering  a  little.  "  A  nice  fire  in  the  bar,  and  dinner  all  ready." 

"  This  is  the  town  of  Carrick,  is  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  this  is  Carrick.  Was  you  going  to  stop  here?"  And  at  the  im- 
plied possibility  the  idlers  paused  in  their  retreat  toward  the  fire,  and  gazed 
with  revived  interest  upon  the  stranger,  whom  a  lucky  chance  had  perhaps  de- 
livered over  to  them. 

"Yes.     Is  this  the  hotel?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Burroughs,  with  a  little  hesitation.  "  The  Mermaid's 
Cave,  stage  tavern,  post-office,  and  hotel." 

At  this  new  assumption  of  dignity  on  the  part  of  their  magnate,  some  of  the 
courtiers  drew  themselves  up  with  a  sense  of  increased  consequence,  some 
nudged  each  other  with  sly  smiles,  and  the  disaffected  Brume  openly  re- 
marked, 

"  Fust  time  I  ever  heerd  the  old  tahvern  called  a  ho-tel.  Burroughs  '11  be 
setting  up  for  'the  gen'lemanly  lan'lord'  next." 

At  this  moment  the  discordant  tones  of  the  fish-horn  sounded  again  through 
the  whirling  snow,  and  Reuben,  now  left  alone  upon  the  stoop,  paused  a  moment 
in  doubt  of  the  expediency  of  disobeying  the  summons.  The  supper  hour, 
however,  was  already  passed.  To  return  now  was  to  suffer  all  the  penalties  and 
reap  none  of  the  advantages  of  further  delay,  and  after  a  momentary  hesitation, 
Reuben,  with  a  defiant  grimace  in  the  direction  of  his  home,  followed  his  com- 
rades into  the  bar-room,  and  joined  the  silent  ring  about  the  stove,  every  man  in 
it  bending  his  entire  attention  to  the  conversation  between  the  landlord  and  the 
stranger.  Mr.  Vaughn  stood  a  little  apart,  questioning  his  groom  as  to  the 
state  of  the  roads,  and  the  best  mode  of  travelling  them.  At  another  time  this 
interrogatory,  now  reduced  to  by-play,  would  have  constituted  an  ample  even- 
ing's entertainment  for  the  frequenters  of  the  Mermaid's  Cave,  but  to  attend  to 
more  than  one  thing  at  a  time  was  never  a  fashion  of  the  men  of  Carrick,  and 
Mr  Vaughn  they  had  seen  and  heard  before,  while  the  stranger  fell  among  them 
as  a  human  victim  to  sharks  long  confined  to  a  fish  diet. 

"  Cragness  !  Why  that's  the  old  Vaughn  place,"  said  the  landlord,  just  as 
Reuben  Brume  edged  into  the  circle. 

"  Yes.  I  wish  for  a  sleigh,  horse,  and  careful  driver  to  take  me  there  im- 
mediately after  dinner,"  said  the  stranger. 

"But  there  ain't  nobody  living  there  now.  The  Square  went  off  to  Europe 
or  somewhere  last  winter,  and  there's  only  an  old  man — old  Laz'rus  Graves — in 
the  house." 

"  I  kr.ow  it     Can  I  have  the  sleigh  ?  " 


14  CIPHER. 

"  Wa-al " — and  Mr.  Burroughs  looked  helplessly  about  the  circle  for  compe- 
tent counsel  in  this  unprecedented  case. 

The  courtiers  stirred  each  in  his"  place  as  expressing  sympathy  and  interest, 
but  no  man  yet  ventured  to  suggest  the  appropriate  question  which  should  at 
once  arrive  at  the  point  next  to  be  ascertained,  namely,  the  motive  of  this  mys- 
terious stranger  in  thus  seeking  conveyance  to  a  deserted  and  lonely  house, 
haunted,  too,  as  every  babe  in  Carrick  could  testify. 

"Wa-al,"  repeated  Mr.  Burroughs,  and  again  his  rolling  eyes  traversed  the 
circle.  This  time  they  fell  upon  the  figure  of  Mr.  Vaughn,  who,  having  finished- 
his  instructions  to  the  groom,  now  approached  the  fire.  A  brilliant  idea  illumi- 
nated the  publican's  brain. 

"  Here's  Square  Vaughn  can  tell  you  all  about  the  old  place,"  said  he.  "  I 
guess  you  don't  fairly  know  what  sort  of  craft  you're  shipping  in,  agoing  there, 
and  maybe  he'll  give  you  some  light.  Square,  this  gentleman  wants  to  go  to 
Cragness  to-night." 

"Indeed?"  And  Mr.  Vaughn,  with  somewhat  cold  politeness,  turned  to 
the  stranger,  who,  in  their  long  day's  journey,  had  not  offered  one  remark  to 
him,  or  vouchsafed  more  than  the  curtest  replies  to  his  own  attempts  at  con- 
versation. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  the  old  place  somewhat  desolate  on  such  a  night 
as  this,"  said  he. 

"  Possibly.  But  I  am  not  sensitive  to  such  matters.  Are  there  no  horses 
to  be  hired  here,  can  you  tell  me  ?" 

"  Why,  yes.  I  suppose,  Burroughs,  you  could  let  this  gentleman  have  your 
own  horse  and  a  saddle,  couldn't  you  ?  My  man  says  the  road  is  impassable  for 
wheels  or  runners  on  account  of  the  drift." 

"  Whitefoot  ain't  agoing  out  to-night,"  whispered  a  sepulchral  voice  from  the 
kitchen  door  into  the  landlord's  ear,  who,  starting  a  little,  answered  slowly, 

"Wa-al,  Square,  I'd  like  to  'commodate  the  gentleman,  of  course,  and  I've 
got  my  own  horse  in  the  barn  as  you  say,  but  I  guess  he'd  better  stop  there  to- 
night. I  couldn't  send  no  one  to  "fetch  him  back,  and  like  enough  it'll  storm 
worse  to-morrow,  and  maybe  the  gentleman  never  would  get  to  Cragness,  and 
I'd  be  awful  sorry  to  lose  Whitefoot." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  I  must  stay  here  until  the  storm  is  over,"  said  the  stranger, 
glancing  somewhat  ruefully  about  the  dingy  room. 

"  We'll  'commerdate  you  the  best  we  can,  sir,  though  winter  time,  so  it's 
rather  hard  to  have  everything  shipshape,"  said  Burroughs,  casting  a  dubious 
side-glance  toward  the  kitchen  door. 

"  I  can  suggest  a  better  course,  perhaps,"  interposed  Mr.  Vaughn,  with  a 
little  hesitation,  "if  you  will  ride  my  servant's  horse  and  accompany  me  to 
Bonniemeer,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  offer  you -a  bed,  and  so  soon  as  the  roads 
are  practicable,  will  send  a  man  to  show  you  the  way  to  Cragness.  Burroughs, 
you  will  let  James  ride  Whitefoot,  won't  you  ?  I  promise  you  shall  see  the  old 
nag  safe  to-morrow." 

"  Yes  "  echoed  from  behind  the  kitchen  door,  and  "Yes,"  replied  the  land- 
land,  with  some  added  phrase  of  confidence  in  the  "  Square's  making  it  all  right 
if  anything  came  to  the  horse." 

All  eyes  now  turned  upon  the  stranger.  His  first  impulse  was,  evidently,  to 
refuse  Mr.  Vaughn's  proffered  hospitality,  but  a  second  thought  held  him  a  mo- 
ment irresolute,  and  he  finally  said, 


CIPHER.  15 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  invitation,  but  it  may  make  some  difference  to 
your  feelings  to  know  that  I  am  John  Gillies,  heir  to  your  late  uncle,  Reginald 
Vaughn." 

The  listeners  gasped  for  breath.     Such  a  mine  of  interest  as  was  opened  bjr  , 
this  announcement  sufficed  to  engulf  all  Carrick  for  many  a  day. 

Mr.  Vaughn  smiled  frankly,  and  extended  his  hand. 

"Very  happy  to  give  you  a  neighbor's  welcome,  Mr.  Gillies,"  said  he  ;  "and 
I  only  wish  I  could  congratulate  you  on  your  accession  to  the  property.  But 
'  the  home  of  my  fathers,'  as  the  school  girls  say,  had  never  much  attraction  for 
me,  and  I  infinitely  prefer  you  should  be  its  proprietor  to  owning  it  myself.  You 
will  come  home  with  me,  I  trust  ? " 

"Thank  you.     Yes,"  said  Mr.  Gillies,  almost  cordially. 

"Then  we  will  set  out  at  once  and  dine  at  Bonniemeer,"  suggested  Vaughn. 

"But  you'd  best  take  something  to  keep  out  the  cold,  gentlemen,"  interposed 
the  landlord.  "  The  iron's  in  the  fire,  and  we'll  have  some  flip  ready  before  you'll 
get  your  horses  round." 

"  It's  churlish  to  refuse  a  stirrup  cup.  I  suppose,"  said  the  yoiyiger  gentleman, 
laughingly,  and  Mr.  Gillies  gravely  bowing,  said  not  a  word,  but  watched  some- 
what curiously,  while  the  landlord  drawing  a  tankard  of  ale,  mingled  with  it  sugar, 
spirits,  and  spices,  and  then  pulling  from  the  glowing  coals  a  short  iron  bar  fit- 
ted with  a  wooden  handle,  stirred  the  compound  in  the  tankard,  until  a  rich 
spicy  odor  from  the  heated  liquid  rose  in  clouds,  and  caused  the  souls  of  the 
courtiers  to  momentarily  retire  from  eyes  and  ears  to  centre  in  their  noses. 

Each  gentleman  drained  a  glass  of  the  flip  thus  compounded,  and  the  host 
joined  them  in  another,  saying,  as  he  raised  it  to  his  lips, 

"  Here's  wishing  you  good  healths,  sirs." 

"  A  prosperous  journey  were  more  to  the  purpose  just  now,  Burroughs," 
said  Mr.  Vaughn,  gaily.  "  Are  the  horses  ready,  James  ? " 

"  All  ready,  sir,"  replied  the  groom,  rather  sulkily. 

"  Then  get  your  own  share  of  the  flip,  and  follow  us,"  said  his  master,  and 
the  two  gentlemen  mounting  the  impatient  horses  held  by  the  stable  boy  at  the 
door,  rode  away  as  rapidly  as  might  be,  while  James,  upon  the  landlord's  broken- 
winded  nag,  followed  as  best  he  could,  comforting  himself  with  several  remarks 
not  to  be  here  repeated.  The  idlers  of  the  Mermaid's  Cave  attentively  watched 
them  out  of  sight,  and  then  returned  to  the  bar-room  to  digest  the  events  of  the 
evening,  aided  by  Billings,  who  had  decided  the  weather  and  the  roads  to  be  ua- 
propitious  to  farther  progress  that  night. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE   OMEN   OF  THE   DUNES. 

As  the  closing  door  of  the  bar-room  shut  off  the  stream  of  ruddy  light, 
which  had  hospitably  marshalled  the  travellers  to  their  saddles,  John  Gillies 
looked  about  him  in  dismay.  No  such  scene  as  this  had  ever  entered  his 
experience. 

The  twinkling  lights  of  the  hamlet  already  lay  behind  him,  in  front,  the  dark 
expanse  of  an  angry  sea,  its  breakers  thundering  on  the  beach,  and  rolling  up 
in  great  white  crescents  to  his  horses'  feet,  or  in  their  retreat  dragging  down  to 
the  depths  the  rattling  pebbles  the  next  wave  was  to  return.  To  the  right  lay 


16  CIPHER. 

a  long  range  of  sand  dunes  glimmering  ghostly  white  through  the  darkness, 
while  the  wind  chasing  the  storm  through  their  mimic  gorges  and  shifting  tun- 
nels, and  up  and  down  their  treacherous  slopes,  shrieked  and  yelled  in  its  awful 
glee.  Across  the  scene  a  broad  white  track  bordering  the  black  waters  showed 
the  crescent  curve  of  the  beach,  a  sort  of  terrene  milky  way. 

The  snow  now  turning  to  sleet,  beat  furiously  into  the  faces  of  the  travellers 
with  a  feel  like  powdered  ice.  No  such  scene  had  John  Gillies  encountered  in 
all  his  intermural  rambles,  and  he  was  inwardly  strengthening  himself  against 
an  impertinent  doubt  of  the  wisdom  of  his  own  course,  when  his  companion 
shouted  in  his  ear, 

"  A  wild  night,  even  for  the  coast." 

"Very  likely,"  said  Mr.  Gillies,  curtly. 

"  I  am  taking  you  by  the  beach.  It's  a  little  more  open  to  the  storm,  but 
my  man  says  the  other  road  is  drifted  very  badly,"  continued  the  master  of  Bon- 
niemeer. 

"  I  leave  it  entirely  to  you,  sir,"  replied  his  guest,  and  neither  the  weather  nor 
his  company  encouraging  further  conversation,  Mr.  Vaughn  relapsed  into  silence, 
broken  only  by  an  occasional  phrase  of  encouragement  to  his  horse,  while  for 
nearly  an  hour  the  three  men  struggled  on,  often  reduced  to  a  foot  pace  by  the 
violence  of  the  storm,  now  directly  opposed  to  them,  and  blowing  at  times  with 
such  fury  that  the  horses,  restrained  from  their  natural  impulse  to  turn  from  it, 
reared  impatiently,  as  if  to  overleap  a  tangible  obstacle. 

The  night,  now  fairly  set  in,  was  as  dark  as  is  ever  known  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  a  large  body  of  water,  and  it  was  only  by  keeping  close  behind  his 
leader  that  the  stranger  was  able  to  follow  the  road  as  it  finally  left  the  coast  and 
struck*  in  among  the  sand  dunes. 

Suddenly,  Mr.  Vaughn's  horse  swerved,  paused,  and  uttered  a  shrill  neigh. 
"  What  now,  Thor  !  "  exclaimed  the  rider,  as  he  bent  from  the  saddle  to  search 
for  the  object  of  the  creature's  alarm  or  surprise. 

Something  like  a  garment  partially  buried  in  a  snow-wreath,  rose  and  fell 
stiffly  as  a  blast  of  wind  swept  through  the  dunes. 

"  Good  heavens  !  some  one  is  lying  here,  frozen  perhaps.  What  is  to  be 
done  ?"  exclaimed*  Mr.  Vaughn,  throwing  himself  from  his  horse. 

Mr.  Gillies  unclosed  his  lips  to  suggest  a  watchman,  but  recollecting  himself, 
was  silent.  James  and  Whitefoot  were  far  in  the  rear.  • 

"  It's  a  woman,  I  should  think,  and  she  has  something — yes,  it's  a  child — 
wrapped  in  her  cloak.  Do  you  hear  me,  sir ;  here's  a  poor  creature  and  her 
baby  freezing  to  death  at  your  horse's  feet ! "  exclaimed  Vaughn^  impetuously, 
as  his  comrade  quietly  began  to  dismount. 

"  I  understand,  but  I  don't  know  what  to  advise.  There  is  no  station-house 
near  by,  I  suppose,  where  we  might  apply  for  help." 

"  Station-house  !  good  heavens,  no  !  My  own  house  is  the  nearest ;  but  how 
are  we  to  get  her  there  ? " 

"  I  cannot  suggest,"  said  Mr.  Gillies,  calmly,  and  in  the  darkness  lost  the 
look  of  disgust  bestowed  upon  him  by  his  companion. 

"  She's  gone,  poor  creature,  I'm  afraid,"  and  the  younger  man  softly  raised, 
one  of  the  stiff  hands,  and  then  replaced  it  beneath  the  cloak. 

"James  !  He's  out  of  sight  and  hearing,"  continued  he,  impatiently.  "  Well, 
Mr.  Gillies,  if  you  will  mount  again  I'll  give  you  the  child  to  carry,  and  contrive 
to  get  the  woman  upon  my  own  horse.  They  can't  be  left  here." 


CIPHER.  17 

"  I  cannot  carry  tne  child.  I  never  touched  one,"  said  Mr.  Gillies,  in  solemn 
alarm. 

"  O,  very  well.  I  shall  wait  for  my  man  to  take  it,  then.  I  do  not  know 
that  he  is  more  experienced  than  yourself,  but  I  presume  he  will  not  refuse  to 
make  the  attempt,  when  life  and  death  are  at  stake." 

"  A  plan  suggests  itself  to  me,"  said  John  Gillies,  slowly. 

"  Indeed  ;  what  is  it  ?  "  asked  his  companion,  with  scarcely-concealed  disdain. 

"  I  will  stay  here  with  the  woman  until  your  servant  comes  up,  when  I  will 
direct  him  to  place  her  in  front  of  him.  You,  meantime,  will  hasten  home  with 
the  child,  as  every  moment  of  continued  exposure  is  a  chance  of  life  lost  to  it." 

"  You  will  stay  here  ?  Possibly,  James  may  not  come  up  at  all.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  that  old  nag  had  foundered,  and  he  walked  back  to  town,"  said  Mr. 
Vaughn,  doubtfully. 

"In  that  case,  I  shall,  after  satisfying  myself  that  no  life  remains  in  this 
body,  leave  it,  and  trust  to  the  horse  to  carry  me  to  his  home.  I  have  read  that 
their  instinct  in  such  cases  is  a  sure  guide." 

"  But  why  not  let  me  now  put  the  body  in  front  of  you,  and  come  at  once  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Vaughn,  in  a  more  amicable  tone. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  touch  it,"  replied  the  impracticable  Gillies. 

"  Then  I  will  accept  your  own  proposition.  I  dare  say  the  horse  will  come 
straight  home,  and,  as  you  say,  the  life  of  this  child  depends  on  immediate 
relief." 

Mr.  Gillies,  as  his  sole  reply,  seated  himself  in  the  snow  at  a  short  distance 
from  the  body. 

"  Good  heavens,  man  !  you'll  be  asleep  in  five  minutes,  and  freeze  to  death 
in  fifteen.  I  did  not  actually  think  of  leaving  you,  of  course  ;  but  you  are  so 
very  self-possessed  I  could  not  help  a  little  trial  to  see  if  you  were  in  earnest." 

"  I  am  always  in  earnest,"  said  John  Gillies,  solemnly ;  and  Vaughn,  with  an 
imperceptible  shrug,  replied : 

"  How  delightful !  But  here  is  James  ;  now  we  are  all  right  at  last.  Here, 
James,  come  and  put  this  poor  creature's  body  in  front  of  me,  and  then  take  the 
child  yourself.  Who  is  that  behind  you  ?  " 

"Thomas,  sir.  He  was  sent  down  to  Carrick  just  after  I  started,  and  got  to 
the  tavern  a  few  minutes  after  we  left.  So  he  came  along  the  beach." 

"Was  sent !  "  exclaimed  Vaughn,  in  a  changed  voice.  "  Is  anything  wrong 
at  home  ? " 

"  Mrs.  Vaughn  is  sick,  sir,"  said  the  groom,  hesitating ;  "  and  Thomas  says 
Mrs.  Rhee  seemed  a  good  deal  frightened  when  she  sent  him." 

"  Thomas  !  what  message  did  Mrs.  Rhee  send  to  me  ? "  asked  the  master, 
impatiently. 

"  She  said,  sir,  ride  for  life  if  you  wanted  to  see  your  wife  agaiir,"  said 
Thomas,  huskily. 

A  deep  groan  burst  from  Vaughn's  lips,  and,  throwing  himself  upon  his 
horse,  he  struck  spurs  into  his  sides  with  an  energy  that  made  the  fiery  creature 
plunge  and  rear,  and  then  dart  forward  as  if  borne  by  the  wind  itself. 

Even  in  that  moment  of  agony,  however,  the  humane  and  hospitable  instincts 
of  the  man  asserted  themselves. 

"  James,"  cried  he,  "  I  depend  upon  you  to  bring  the  woman,  the  child,  and 
this  gentleman  safely  to  Bonniemeer." 

The  next  instant  he  was  gone. 


18  CIPHER. 

CHAPTER     VI. 

BONXIEMEER. 

WITH  some  difficulty,  the  grooms  succeeded  in  placing  the  body  of  the 
woman  upon  one  of  the  horses,  and  while  one  man  mounted  and  held  it  there, 
the  other,  with  the  little  child  in  his  arms,  regained  his  own  saddle,  and,  calling 
upon  Mr.  Gillies  to  follow  closely,  they  took  the  same  road  their  master  had 
done. 

The  violence  of  the  storm  would  have  rendered  communication  difficult  had 
il  been  desired,  and  not  a  word  was  exchanged  until,  at  a  sharp  turn  of  the  road, 
the  servants  pausing  to  see  that  the  stranger  was  close  beside  them,  turned  in  at 
a  gate  sheltered  and  nearly  concealed  by  a  dense  growth  of  evergreens. 

At  some  distance,  and  a  little  higher  than  this  entrance,  appeared  the  glanc- 
ing lights  of  a  large  building  dimly  outlined  against  the  stormy  sky. 

A  few  moments  later  the  horses  paused  at  the  foot  of  some  broad  steps,  and 
James,  with  the  infant,  carefully  dismounting,  carried  it  in  at  the  hall  door,  and 
presently  returned  followed  by  two  or  three  female  servants,  who,  with  much 
outcry  and  many  questions,  helped  him  to  take  the  body  of  the  woman  from  the 
stiffened  arms  of  Thomas,  who  avowed  himself  "  chilled  to  the  marrow,"  and 
carried  it  into  the  house. 

Then,  and  not  till  then,  James,  who  had  privately  resented  more  than  he 
thought  safe  to  express  Mr.  Gillies's  resolute  non-interference  in  this  work  of 
humanity,  said, 

"Will  you  get  off  your  horse,  sir,  and  walk  into  the  house.     I  will  speak  to 
Mrs.  Rhee,  for  I  suppose  Mr.  Vaughn  won't  be  able  to  see  any  one  to-night." 
Mr.  Gillies  remained  immovable. 

"  I  will  give  any  man  here  a  dollar,  or  as  much  more  as  we  may  decide  upon, 
to  show  me  the  way  to  my  own  house  of  Cragness,"  said  he,  at  length. 

"  Cragness,  sir !  There  isn't  a  man  or  horse  about  the  place  that  could  reach 
Cragness  to-night.  There's  no  choice  but  for  you  to  stop  here.  Won't  you 
please  walk  into  the  house,"  replied  James,  with  respectful  impatience. 

With  undisguised  reluctance,  the  visitor  dismounted  and  followed  his  guide 
up  the  steps. 

"  I  had  rather  go  to  my  own  house,"  persisted  he. 

To  this  remark  James  offered  no  reply ;  but,  pushing  open  the  heavy  door, 

ushered  the  guest  into  a  hall,  whose  warmth,  light,  and  the  fragrance  from  some 

large  flowering  shrubs,  offered  a  charming  contrast  to  the  wild  weather  without. 

The  door  of  a  room  at  the  right  of  the  entrance  stood  open,  and  James 

pushed  it  a  little  wider. 

"  Walk  into  the  library,  sir,  and  sit  down,"  said  he.  "  I  will  speak  to  the 
housekeeper." 

"  I  am  sorry  I  could  not  go  to  Cragness,"  murmured  John  Gillies,  as  he  ad- 
vanced into  the  quiet  room  and  looked  about  him.  The  lamps  were  not  lighted, 
but  a  fire  of  bituminous  coal  blazed  in  the  grate  and  fitfully  illuminated  the  fres- 
coes of  the  ceiling,  the  rare  marbles  and  dim,  lettered  bindings  of  volumes  rarer 
than  any  marbles,  the  carved  blazonry  above  the  fire-place,  the  moss-green  car- 
pet, and  furniture. 

"A  man  of  letters  and  art — a  proud  man  and  a  luxurious,"  commented 
ahrewd  John  Gillies,  as  his  eyes  wandered  over  these  details.  "  And  not  a  mu- 


CIPHER.  19 

sical  instrument  of  any  sort,"  added  he,  with  a  hard  smile  of  contempt,  as  he 
turned  his  back  upon  the  room,  and  stood  looking  into  the  glowing  coals. 

"  Shall  I  show  you  to  your  room,  Mr.  Gillies  ?  "  said  a  voice  at  his  elbow. 

He  turned,  and  found  a  woman  beside  him.  A  woman,  perhaps  thirty-five 
years  old,  with  one  of  the  most  singular  faces  he  had  ever  seen.  Not  a  trace  of 
color  lay  beneath  the  pale  olive  of  the  skin,  except  a  deep  scarlet  in  the  lips. 
The  large  eyes,  dark  and  full  as  those  of  a  stag,  had  swept  one  rapid  glance  at 
him  when  she  first  spoke,  but  fell  before  his  own  could  fairly  meet  them.  Heavy 
masses  of  black  hair  were  swept  away  from  a  low  forehead,  and  half  covered  the 
small  ears.  The  figure  was  slight  and  graceful,  the  hands  small,  the  dress  quiet, 
but  handsome.  It  was  in  none  of  these,  however,  that  the  peculiarity  of  this 
woman's  appearance  lay ;  it  was  in  the  latent  expression  of  the  whole,  a  sort  of 
terrible  intimation  of  something  just  beneath  the  surface,  hidden  for  the  moment 
by  an  unnatural  quiet,  but  ever  watching  for  a  moment  of  weakness  in  its  guar- 
dian to  burst  from  her  control. 

Something  of  this  the  acute  physiognomist,  John  Gillies,  felt,  but  failed  at 
the  moment  to  reduce  the  perception  to  thought. 

"Shall  I  show  you  to  your  room,  sir?  I  am  Mrs.  Rhee,  Mr.  Vaughn's 
housekeeper,"  said  the  woman,  finding  her  first  appeal  disregarded. 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  sorry  to  intrude  upon  strangers  at  such  a  time  as  this, 
but  am  informed  it  would  be  impossible  to  reach  my  own  house  to-night." 

"  Quite,  sir.  It  is  a  terrible  night  for  any  one  to  leave  a  happy  home  and  go 
all  alone  into  the  storm." 

She  shivered  convulsively  as  she  spoke,  and  moved  toward  the  door. 

Both  words  and  manner  were  strange,  and  catching  rather  at  their  hidden 
than  their  obvious  meaning,  Mr.  Gillies  said, 

"  The  woman  we  found  to-night,  will  she  recover  ?  " 

"  She  is  dead,"  said  the  housekeeper,  briefly,  as  she  began  to  ascend  the 
stairs. 

"  And  Mrs.  Vaughn  ?  "  asked  Gillies,  doubtfully. 

Mrs.  Rhee  paused,  and  clung  a  mome'nt  to  the  banister  before  she  answered, 
in  a  whisper, 

"  She  is  dying." 

"A  terrible  night  for  any  one  to  leave  a  happy  home  and  go  all  alone  into 
the  storm,"  echoed  through  John  Gillies's  brain,  but  he  said  nothing,  and  the 
housekeeper  recovering  from  her  sudden  emotion,  passed  swiftly  up  the  stairs 
and  threw  open  the  door  of  a  bed-chamber,  warmed,  lighted,  and  luxurious. 

"  You  will  find  a  bell  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  sir,  and  dinner  will  be  served  in 
half  an  hour,"  said  his  attendant,  briefly,  as  she  closed  the  door. 

The  guest  stood  looking  after  her  a  moment,  and  then  drawing  a  chair  to 
the  blazing  fire,  seated  himself  and  stared  absently  into  its  depths. 

"A  terrible  night,"  murmured  he;  "I  wonder  if  what  is  left  of  those  two 
women  will  know  what  sort  of  a  night  it  is.  I  wonder  if  that  housekeeper  was 
very  fond  of  her  rriistress,  or  if  she  is  what  they  call  nervous.  I  wonder  if  this 
man  sitting  before  this  fire  is  the  man  who  twenty-four  hours  ago  had  never  been 
out  of  the  city  where  he  was  born,  had  never  seen  one  of  these  curious  people. 
I  wonder  if  they  keep  going  on  in  this  way  all  the  time." 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  servant  sent  to  summon  Mr.  Gillies  to  dinner,  found 
him  sitting  in  the  same  position  still  staring  vacantly  into  the  glowing  coals. 


20  CIPHER. 

"  Mr.  Vaughn  begs  to  be  excused  from  dinner,  sir.  He  cannot  leave  his 
wife,"  said  Mrs.  Rhee's  subdued  voice,  as  the  guest  entered  the  dining-room. 

The  dining-room  door  again  opened,  and  a  small  man  with  quick  bright  eyes, 
and  a  close  mouth,  entered,  and  advanced  toward  the  table. 

"  Mr.  Gillies,  Doctor  Roland,"  said  the  housekeeper,  briefly. 

The  two  men  bowed,  and  seated  themselves  at  table.  Some  trifling  conver- 
sation upon  the  weather,  and  upon  the  peculiarities  of  the  sea-shore  in  winter, 
ensued,  but  the  housekeeper  did  not  speak,  except  in  performing  the  duties  of 
the  table,  nor  did  either  food  or  wine  pass  her  lips.  Only  as  they  were  about  to 
rise,  Mr.  Gillies  noticed  that  she  asked  for  a  glass  of  ice  water,  and  drank  it  with 
feverish  rapidity. 

Returning  at  last  to  his  own  room,  he  paused  on  hearing  satifled  grons  from 
a  corridor  just  beyond,  and,  looking  down  it,  was  startled  to  see  a  dark  shapeless 
figure  lying  upon  the  floor  at  the  farther  end,  and  writhing  to  and  fro  as  if  in 
agony.  Cautiously  approaching  until  he  stood  directly  above  it,  Mr.  Gillies 
still  failed  in  the  dim  light  to  discover  more  than  that  it  appeared  to  be  a  woman 
suffering  intensely. 

"  What's  the  matter  ? "  asked  he,  hesitatingly.  "  Can  I  help  you  in  any 
way?" 

The  sounds  of  distress  became  more  violent,  although  evidently  suppressed 
as  much  as  possible,  but  still  the  figure  neither  rose  nor  spoke. 

Gillies,  unwilling  either  to  abandon  or  to  urge  his  proffer  of  sympathy,  stood 
irresolute,  when  a  door  softly  opened,  and  Mrs.  Rhee  appeared,  closing  it  be- 
hind her. 

"Chloe  ! "  said  she,  sternly,  and  stooping  down,  she  whispered  a  few  words, 
and  then  said  aloud, 

"  Get  up,  Chloe,  and  go  to  my  room  to  wait  till  you  are  called.  Mr.  Gillies, 
I  will  show  you  the  way  to  your  own  chamber." 

"  I  know  the  way  to  the  chamber  I  was  in  before  dinner,"  said  Gillies,  com- 
posedly. "  I  came  here  to  see  what  was  the  matter  with  this  person." 

He  paused,  as  he  spoke,  to  look  at  the  uncouth  figure  now  standing  erect  be- 
fore him.  It  was  that  of  an  intensely  black  negro  woman,  dwarfed  in  stature, 
and  so  malformed  that  her  head,  bent  upon  her  breast,  could  only  be  turned  from 
side  to  side,  forcing  her  in  addressing  any  person  to  give  them  a  sidelong  upward 
glance  indescribably  elfish  and  peculiar. 

"  She  is  Mrs.  Vaughn's  nurse,  and  she  feels — " 

Mrs.  Rhee  paused  abruptly.  The  negro  woman  who  had  moved  away  a  few 
steps,  turned  impulsively,  and  catching  the  housekeeper's  skirts,  buried  her  face 
in  them  with  a  dumb  moan  of  anguish  more  pitiful  than  words.  For  an  instant 
Mrs.  Rhee  stooped  as  iT  to  throw  her  arms  about  her,  but  restraining  herself, 
said  imperiously, 

"  Come  with  me,  Chloe.     Mr.  Gillies — " 

"  1  have  no  intention  of  farther  intrusion  upon  the  domestic  affairs  of  this 
house,  ma'am,"  said  Gillies,  coldly.  "  I  should  not  have  been  guilty  of  it  in 
this  in  this  instance  had  not  humanity — " 

But  Mrs.  Rhee  had  not  paused  for  more  than  his  first  words.  Already  she 
had  disappeared  through  a  door  at  the  end  of  the  corridor,  followed  by  Chloe. 

Mr.  Gillies  walked  meditatively  to  his  own  room,  and  gave  no  further  clue 
to  his  feelings  that  night,  than  to  say  as  he  stepped  into  bed.  "  I  wish  I  could 
have  gone  to  Cragness." 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  HOUSEKEEPER'S  HAND. 

THE  next  morning  dawned  clear  and  cold.  Mr.  Gillies,  arising  at  his  usua« 
early  hour,  approached  the  window  with  some  curiosity,  and  very  few  pre- 
conceived ideas  either  of  the  situation  of  Bonniemeer  or  of  scenery  in  general,  his 
experiences  in  this  direction  having  been  limited  to  half  a  dozen  ascents  to  the 
cupola  of  the  State  House  of  his  native  city. 

Fancy  the  revelation  to  such  a  man  of  a  view  like  that  lying  now  beneath 
his  eyes  ! 

At  the  right,  miles  of  evergreen  forest  "  clothed  the  wold  and  met  the  sky," 
its  dense  green  flecked  with  the  snow  clinging  to  the  level  branches,  and  softened 
by  the  snake-like  tracery  of  the  naked  birches  fringing  its  margin.  To  the  left 
abruptly  rose  a  rocky  headland,  crag  piled  upon  crag  in  majestic  outline,  tossing 
scornfully  from  its  broad  shoulders  the  snow  which  gently  sought  to  cover  it,  and 
raising  its  fearless  crest  to  meet  the  morning  sun  that  paused  to  crown  it  brother 
monarch,  while  yet  the  valley  lay  in  twilight. 

Across  the  front  swept  the  ocean,  curving  broadly  to  the  horizon  line,  and 
giving  the  idea  of  limitless  extent,  the  satisfaction  of  soul  only  to  be  obtained  by 
the  introduction  of  ocean  into  a  picture. 

The  satisfaction  of  soul !  for  if  the  horizon  closes  with  a  mountain,  a  plain,  a 
broken  country,  who  has  not  felt  the  impulse  to  place  himself  just  at  the  vanishing- 
point  and  see  what  lies  beyond  ?  It  is  an  unfinished  continuity,  and  excites  more 
craving  than  content.  But  the  gaze,  which  after  traversing  leagues  and  leagues 
of  shining  water,  broken  only  by  the  grand  curve  of  the  globe  itself,  sinks  at  last 
into  the  vague  brightness  of  the  horizon  line,  the  dissolving-point  where  sea  is 
sky  and  sky  is  sea,  lingers  there  content.  Beyond  lies  space,  eternity,  God,  and 
humanity  quails  from  the  encounter. 

Behind  that  crag  at  the  left  hand,  although  Mr.  Gillies  did  not  know  it,  lay 
his  future  home.  The  wood  at  the  right  sheltered  the  hamlet  of  Carrick,  and  the 
beach  lay  glistening  a  mile  from  the  window  whence  the  post-office  clerk  took 
his  first  look  at  Nature. 

A  servant  presently  summoned  him  to  breakfast.     At  the  head  of  the  table 


22  CIPHER. 

sat  Mrs.  Rhee,  and  John  Gillies's  first  impression  in  looking  at  her  was,  that  she 
had  shrunk  farther  into  herself  since  he  saw  her  last.  Surely  her  eyes  were  not 
so  hollow,  her  lips  so  thin,  her  temples  so  sunken,  the  night  before.  Even  the 
hands,  busy  among  the  teacups,  looked  withered  and  pinched,  and  the  observer 
noted  that  a  ring  upon  the  first  finger,  which  he  had  watched  sparkling  in  the 
lamplight  at  dinner-time,  was  now  slipped  round  by  the  weight  of  the  stone,  as 
if  it  suddenly  had  grown  too  large. 

The  table  was  laid  for  two  only,  and  the  housekeeper,  motioning  Mr.  Gillies 
to  the  vacant  place,  said,  in  a  low  voice, 

"  Mr.  Vaughn  will  not  come  to  breakfast,  and  the  doctor  has  gone." 
"  And  Mrs.  Vaughn —  " 
"  She  died  at  midnight." 

Mrs.  Rhee  turned  away  her  face  as  she  spoke,  but  Gillies  could  see  the  deadly 
pallor  that  overspread  even  the  slender  throat  and  little  ear,  the  quiver  of  sup- 
pressed anguish  that  trembled  through  every  curve  of  the  graceful  form,  and 
while  he  looked  and  wondered,  the  phrase  of  the  night  before  went  sighing 
through  his  mind  like  the  burden  of  a  half-forgotten  song. 

"  A  terrible  night  to  leave  a  happy  home  and  go  out  all  alone  into  the  storm." 
The  meal  was  a  silent  and  a  slight  one,  Mrs.  Rhee  merely  performing  the 
duties  of  the  table,  while  her  guest,  naturally  abstemious,  found  his  appetite  ma- 
terially lessened  not  only  by  his   situation,  but   by  the  absence  of  his  accus- 
tomed viands. 

As  they  rose  from  the  table,  a  servant  entered  with  a  message  from  Mr. 
Vaughn,  desiring  the  housekeeper  to  attend  him,  and  Gillies,  awaiting  her  return, 
strode  impatiently  up  and  down  the  room,  asking  himself  again  and  again,  what 
concern  of  his  was  the  grief  and  loss  oppressing  this  household,  and  how  or  why 
it  should  become  his  own  so  much  as  it  had  done. 

The  servant  quietly  cleared  the  table,  and  he  was  left  alone.  Throwing  him- 
seii*  into  a  chair  beside  the  window,  he  sat  drumming  upon  the  sash,  when  the 
door  opened  noiselessly,  and  Mrs.  Rhee  entered.  Gillies's  quick  glance  invol- 
untarily searched  her  face  for  the  result  of  her  interview  with  her  master,  and 
found  it  in  a  renewal  of  the  strange  expression  he  had  noticed  at  their  first  inter- 
view. The  same  concentrated  firmness  about  the  mouth,  the  same  painful  con- 
straint upon  the  brow,  while  the  secret  of  the  dilated  eyes  looked  from  them  so 
eagerly,  lay  so  close  beneath  the  surface  that  John  Gillies  bent  his  brow  and  held 
his  breath,  waiting  to  see  it  fully  revealed.  But,  conscious  of  his  observation, 
the  woman  turned  hastily  away,  and  approaching  the  fire,  held  her  hands  so  close 
to  the  blaze  that  it  caught  upon  the  lace  about  her  wrists.  She  neither  started 
nor  made  any  exclamation,  and  when  Gillies,  springing  toward  her,  caught  and 
wrapped  her  hands  in  a  cloth  snatched  from  the  table,  she  only  murmured  indif- 
ferent thanks  as  for#  courtesy  that  might  as  well  have  been  omitted.  But  the 
incident  had  diverted  those  searching  eyes  from  her  face,  and,  conscious  of  the 
relief,  she  spoke  hastily : 

"  Mr.  Vaughn  desires  me  to  apologize  for  him.  He  does  not  feel  able  to  see 
any  one,  but  hopes  that  you  will  make  use  of  the  house,  the  servants,  and  the 
horses  at  your  pleasure." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Vaughn,  and  I  should  be  glad  of  a  conveyance 
and  a  guide  to  my  own  house  as  soon  as  possible,  if  you  will  order  it,"  said  Gil* 
lies,  with  undisguised  satisfaction. 


CIPHER.  23 

Mrs.  Rhee  rang  the  bell  and  gave  orders  that  James  and  two  horses  should 
attend  Mr.  Gillies  immediately. 

"  You  will  be  obliged  to  ride,  sir,"  said  she.  "  The  roads  are  not  broken  for 
a  sleigh  yet." 

"  Very  well,  ma'am.  I  came  here  on  a  horse  and  I  presume  it  will  not  be 
more  dangerous  or  disagreeable  to  ride  to-day  than  it  was  last  night.  I  do  not 
like  it,  but  can  endure  it,"  replied  Gillies,  reflectively. 

"  Mrs.  Vaughn's  funeral  will  be  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  continued  the  house- 
keeper, in  a  voice  whose  measured  coldness  betrayed  the  emotion  it  covered  but 
did  not  conceal.  "  The  woman  who  was  found  on  the  beach  will  be  buried  at 
the  same  time,  and  Mr.  Vaughn  will  be  gratified  by  your  presence." 

"  By  no  means  !  "  exclaimed  Gillies,  hastily.  "  I  never  went  to  a  funeral  in 
my  life,  and  I  probably  never  shall." 

The  housekeeper  replied  by  a  look  of  some  displeasure,  and  Gillies  ab- 
ruptly inquired, 

"  Did  the  child  die,  also  ? " 

The  look  of  displeasure  changed  to  one  of  surprise  as  Mrs.  Rhee  coldly 
inquired : 

"  Do  you  refer,  sir,  to  Mr.  Vaughn's  daughter  ?" 

"  Good  Heavens,  no  !  "  exclaimed  Gillies.  "  I  thought — that  is  to  say,  ma'am, 
I  have  been  informed  that  Mr.  Vaughn  had  no  children.  I  was  asking  about  the 
dead  woman's  baby." 

"  Mrs.  Vaughn  died  in  giving  birth  to  an  infant,"  said  the  housekeeper,  fixing 
her  ominous  eyes  upon  him,  and  dropping  the  words  from  her  white  lips  as  if 
they  had  frozen  them. 

"  But,  the  other  child,"  persisted  Gillies. 

"  Mr.  Vaughn  will  keep  it  to  be  educated  with  his  own  daughter — he  says." 
And  with  the  last  words  the  speaker's  voice  dropped  to  an  accent  of  bitter  scorn 
and  jealousy,  as  incomprehensible  to  her  listener's  ear  as  any  other  of  the  mys- 
teries surrounding  this  strange  house  and  its  inmates.  He  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment looking  her  steadily  in  the  face,  and  then,  glancing  out  of  the  window, 
said,  abruptly : 

"  I  see  the  man  and  the  horses.     Good  morning,  ma'am." 

"Good  morning,  sir,"  replied  the  housekeeper,  coldly,  and  with  no  more 
leave-taking,  Mr.  Gillies  hastened  to  the  outer  air,  and  in  reply  to  James's  re- 
spectful salutation  and  remark  upon  the  coldness  of  the  weather,  he  muttered, 

"  Cold  enough,  but  better  than  in  there.  Two  dead  women,  two  babies,  and 
a  witch  for  a  housekeeper.  Ugh  !  " 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

"CRAGNESS,  SIR." 

THE  new  proprietor  looked  up,  and  found  himself  at  the  foot  of  a  consider- 
able eminence  standing  boldly  out  into  the  sea,  which,  in  the  high  spring  tides, 
washed  three  sides  of  it,  and  had  year  by  year  encroached  upon  its  area,  until 
now  its  farther  advance  was  resisted  by  the  solid  granite  foundations  of  the  little 
peninsula,  washed  bare  of  all  disguise,  and  frowning  defiantly  down  at  the  waters 
which  dashed  angrily  upon  it,  and  withdrew  only  to  retuin  yet  more  vehemently. 

Upon  the  crest  of  the  promontory  stood  a  low  stone  building  of  peculiar 
architecture,  the  main  body  of  the  house  describing  a  parallelogram  of  no  con- 


24  CIPHER. 

siclerable  extent,  but  throwing  out  toward  the  sea  a  long  and  narrow  gallery, 
terminating  in  a  circular  tower  of  only  one  story  in  height,  with  a  domed 
roof. 

The  thick  walls  and  narrow  windows,  combined  with  the  chill  air  of  aban« 
donment  hanging  over  all,  gave  the  place  a  peculiarly  gloomy  appearance. 

John  Gillies  sat  on  his  horse  perfectly  quiet,  and  surveyed  his  inheritance 
and  future  home. 

A  mighty  struggle  was  going  on  in  his  mind.  This  dreary  house,  this  savage 
scenery,  this  imperative  mystery,  all  were  as  diametrically  opposed  to  any  wish 
he  had  ever  formed,  as  to  any  experience  he  had  ever  known.  The  forty  pro- 
saic and  methodical  years  of  his  life  rose  up  before  him,  each  one  .summoning 
him  to  turn  his  back  upon  these  strange  new  claims,  and  to  return  to  the  life 
that  he  knew,  and  the  assured  future  it  promised  him. 

On  the  other  hand  lay  the  obstinate  pride  of  the  man,  his  stubborn  adher- 
ence to  any  course  or  opinion  he  had  deliberately  adopted,  and  with  these 
mingled,  though  Heaven  only  knows  whence  in  that  sterile  nature  it  had  sprung, 
an  impulse  to  abandon  himself  to  this  mystery  so  unexpectedly  involving  him, 
to  plunge  into  the  new  life  and  new  interests,  alien  to  his  habits  though  they 
were,  with  the  same  energy  and  dominance  of  will,  which  had  for  years  given 
him  the  first  place  among  those  with  whom  he  had  been  associated. 

T\vo  minutes  John  Gillies  sat  in  the  sharp  north  wind,  staring  up  at  the  old 
house  of  Cragness,  and  in  those  two  minutes  he  had  passed  the  crisis  of  his 
\fe,  and  decided  not  only  his  own  destiny,  but  that  of  a  number  of  other 
persons. 

Or  was  it  perhaps  that  his  destiny  decided  him  ? 

James  meantime  had  ridden  up  the  hill,  and  was  now  knocking  vigorously  at 
a  door  in  the  back  of  the  house. 

"  It's  no  good  to  go  to  the  front,  sir,"  said  he,  as  Mr.  Gillies  drew  rein  beside 
'him.  "There's  a  door  there,  but  it's  never  opened,  and  old  Lazarus  burrows 
this  way  somewhere,  I  believe.  Here  he  comes." 

Slow  steps  were  heard  approaching  along  the  passage,  and  then  the  harsh 
cry  of  rusty  bolts  withdrawn  by  a  feeble  hand.  The  door  presently  opened,  and 
an  old  man,  small  of  stature,  with  long  white  hair,  faint  blue  eyes,  and  a  skin 
blanched  as  if  by  long  exclusion  from  the  sun  and  air,  stood  upon  the  threshold. 

"How  are  you,  Lazarus  Graves?"  said  James,  heartily.  "Here's  the  new 
master  of  Cragness,  Mr.  Gillies,  come  to  take  possession.  Stir  yourself,  old 
man,  and  show  him  in  from  this  freezing  cold." 

The  old  man  looked  attentively  in  the  groom's  face  until  he  had  finished,  and 
then  said, 

"  Mr.  Reginald  is  not  at  home  to-day.     You  had  better  call  again." 

"  Not  at  home  !  No,  nor  he  won't  be,  old  Lazarus.  Don't  you  remember 
Mr.  Robinson  came  down  here  last  week,  and  told  you  he  was  dead,  and  had  left 
the  place  to  Mr.  Gillies  ?  This  is  the  gentleman,  and  you  had  better  let  him  in, 
and  get  a  fire  and  some  dinner  going  as  fast  as  possible." 

The  dim  blue  eyes  wandered  painfully  from  one  strange  face  to  tht  other,  and 
then  suddenly  overflowed  with  tears. 

"  Mr.  Reginald  dead  !  "  said  he.  "  Why,  I  carried  him  in  my  arms  when  he 
was  a  baby  and  I  had  boys  of  my  own.  O,  no,  he  couldn't  be  dead,  and  poor 
old  Lazarus  Graves  left  alive." 

"  He's  more  broke  than  I  thought,  sir,"  said  James  aside  to  Gillies,  who 


CIPHER.  25 

stood  staring  perplexedly  at  the  old  man.  "  It's  the  news  of  his  master's  death 
has  been  working  on  him.  He  was  quite  smart  before  that.  Hadn't  you  better 
come  back  to  Bonniemeer,  sir?  I  am  sure  Mr.  Vaughn  would  wish  it.  You 
can't  be  comfortable  here." 

"To  Bonniemeer!"  repeated  Gillies,  quickly.  "  Certainly  not,  James.  I 
shall  do  very  well  here,  I  have  no  doubt,  if  this  old  man  can  be  got  to  let  us 
in." 

"  That's  easy  clone,"  said  the  self-assured  groom,  stepping  into  the  passage 
and  taking  Lazarus  by  the  arm. 

"  Come,  father,"  said  he,  "  take  us  to  the  fire  wherever  you  keep  it.  This  is 
the  kitchen,  isn't  it  ?  " 

And  he  pushed  open  the  door  of  a  cavernous  brick-floored  apartment,  in  a 
corner  of  whose  wide  chimney  a  handful  of  fire  withered  away,  leaving  but  small 
impression  upon  the  sepulchral  air.  A  broken  chair,  and  a  simmering  sauce- 
pan hinted  at  the  occupancy  and  uses  of  the  place. 

"  Cold  comfort,  sir,  I'm  afraid,"  said  James,  standing  aside  for  Mr.  Gillies  to 
enter.  "  But  I  suppose  there  isn't  a  spark  of  fire  in  the  house  besides." 

"  Fire  !  There's  fire  in  the  library.  Mr.  Reginald  might  come  any  lime 
you  know,  so  I'm  always  ready,  and  so  is  his  dinner,"  interposed  Lazarus, 
eagerly. 

"  Well,  then,  suppose  he  has  come,  that's  all,"  said  James.  "  Here  is  Mr. 
Reginald,  a  little  changed  by  his  life  in  foreign  parts,  but  wanting  the  fire  and 
the  dinner  just  the  same  as  if  you  remembered  him." 

The  old  man  looked  bewildered.  Gillies,  ill-pleased  with  the  position,  but 
hesitating  how  to  assume  his  proper  place  in  his  own-  house  and  in  the  conversa- 
tion, frowned  slightly,  and  moved  toward  the  fire.  The  eyes  of  the  old  servant 
followed  him,  and  returned  dissatisfied  to  the  smiling  and  assured  face  of  the 
groom,  who,  without  being  in  the  least  superior  to  his  condition  of  life,  had  the 
art,  so  useful  in  every  condition,  of  organization. 

"It's  all  right,  I  tell  you,  Lazarus,"  said  he.  "There's  Mr.  Reginald  come 
back  to  stay  awhile,  and  you  must  just  go  on  as  you  used  to  when  he  was  here 
before.  Now  bring  us  to  the  library." 

The  old  man  shook  his  white  head  dubiously,  but  turned  to  leave  the  kitchen. 
James  approached  Mr.  Gillies* 

"  I  hope  you  won't  think  me  forward,  sir,  but  I  have  known  Lazarus  Graves 
a  good  many  years,  and  I  thought  perhaps  I  could  humor  him  into  doing  as  he'd 
ought  to  better  than  you  could.  He's  so  broken  that  I  don't  believe  he  really 
knows  whether  you  are  Mr.  Reginald  Vaughn  or  not." 

"  He's  crazy.  I  don't  like  crazy  people.  It's  a  very  irregular  way  of  doing 
business  to  make  him  think  I  am  someone  else.  Besides  Mr.  Reginald  Vaughn 
is  dead,  and  I  don't  like  using  a  dead  man's  name,"  muttered  Gillies,  discontent- 
edly, as  he  walked  toward  the  door. 

James  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  followed. 

Pursuing  the  echoing  foot-falls  of  their  guide,  the  two  men  traversed  a  long 
passage,  mounted  some  steps,  and  found  him  unlocking  a  small  door  deep  sunk 
in  the  thickness  of  the  wall. 

"  Hope  you'll  excuse  me,  sir,  but  I  wouldn't  let  the  old  fellow  keep  the  key 
of  this  door,"  whispered  James.  "  He'll  lock  you  in,  and  forget  all  about  it,  and 
may  be  die  in  a  fit  and  leave  you  to  starve." 

Gillies  nodded,  and,  the  door  being  at  last  opened,  followed  the  old  janitor 


26  CIPHER. 

into  a  dark  passage,  which  he  concluded  to  be  the  gallery  noticed  as  connecting 
the  rotunda  with  the  main  building. 

It  was  pierced  with  several  windows,  closed  by  shutters,  and  admitting  the 
light  only  at  small  openings  in  the  form  of  crosses.  At  the  end  of  this  gallery, 
Lazarus  Graves  unlocked  another  door,  and,  throwing  it  open,  said  in  a  cheery 
voice, 

"There,  Mr.  Reginald,  I've  kept  it  dusted  and  aired,  and  since  the  cold 
came,  I've  had  a  fire  in  it  mostly,  to  keep  the  chill  off  in  case  you  came  sudden.' 

Without  reply,  Mr.  Gillies  passed  in  at  the  open  door,  and  looked  about 
him. 

The  room  was  large  and  lofty.  As  the  exterior  promised,  the  form  was  cir- 
cular, the  ceiling  domed. 

Walls  and  ceiling  alike  were  panelled  with  a  rich  dark  wood,  and  the  floor 
was  of  oak,  partially  covered  with  a  heavy  Eastern  carpet.  In  the  stone  fire- 
place smouldered  a  fragment  of  drift-wood,  relic  of  some  forgotten  wreck,  above 
it  hung  rusty  arms  surrounding  an  heraldic  device  like  that  holding  a  similar 
position  at  Bonniemeer.  Opposite  to  the  door  the  circular  form  of  the  room 
was  broken  by  a  deep  bay  window  containing  a  small  table,  a  chair,  and  foot- 
stool. 

Approaching  this  window,  Gillies  saw  that  it  faced,  and,  indeed,  overhung 
the  sea,  being  thrown  out  beyond  the  face  of  the  precipice  from  whose  verge 
sprung  the  outer  wall  of  the  tower. 

"  I've  kept  your  chair  in  the  old  place,  Mr.  Reginald,"  piped  Lazarus.  "  You 
didn't  use  to  like  to  have  it  moved,  so  I've  been  careful,  and  that's  the  same 
book  you  left  on  the  table.  I'd  a  notion  once  to  put  it  up,  but  thought  better  on 
it." 

Gillies  raised  the  little  volume  from  the  reading-desk  beside  him.  It  was 
"The  Philosophy  of  the  Supernatural."  He  threw  it  down,  and  shivering  a 
little,  walked  toward  the  fire. 

"  I've  dusted  the  books  once  in  a  while,  but  the  rats  have  been  at  them  some, 
I'm  afraid,"  pursued  old  Lazarus,  too  much  engrossed  in  discharging  his  con- 
science of  its  trust  to  look  attentively  at  his  recovered  master.  Approaching 
the  wall,  he  drew  back  first  one  panel  and  then  another,  showing  that  the  space 
between  them  and  the  outer  wall  had  been  finished  in  sunken  book-cases,  well 
filled  with  volumes,  most  of  them  in  the  dark  leather  or  ghastly  vellum  of  the 
antique  bindings. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Mr.  Gillies,  speaking  for  the  first  time.  "  You  can  go 
now,  both  of  you." 

Lazarus  Graves  turned,  and  fixed  his  watery  eyes  upon  the  speaker  with  a 
startled  expression,  and  the  slow  cloud  of  perplexity  settled  again  upon  his 
face.  He  turned  to  James,  who,  standing  respectfully  .near  the  door,  waited  to 
be  dismissed. 

"What  did  you  say  about  Mr.  Reginald,  young  man  ?"  asked  he. 

"  Why,"  said  James,  slowly,  "  what  I  meant  to  tell  you  was,  that  Mr.  Regin- 
ald isn't  coming  back  any  more,  but  that  this  gentleman  is  in  his  place.  Mr. 
Gillies  is  his  name." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  positively. 

"He'll  come  back,"  said  he.  "  His  last  words  were,  'Keep  everything  just 
as  it  is,  old  Lazarus,  and  111  be  back  some  day  before  you  know  it.'  And  I've 


1868.]  CIPHER.  27 

been  very  careful  to  keep  everything  as  it  was,  and  he'll  be  back,  you  maj  depend 
upon  it." 

"  Well,  till  he  comes,  he  wants  you  to  treat  this  gentleman  just  as  if  it  were 
himself,"  said  James,  slightly  changing  his  tactics.  "  You're  to  do  the  best  you 
can,  and  treat  Mr.  Gillies  as  if  he  were  the  master." 

"  Did  he  send  that  word  ?  "  asked  Lazarus,  hesitatingly. 

"  Yes,  just  those  very  words,"  replied  the  groom,  promptly. 

"  O  well,  then,  its  all  right,"  and  the  cloud  vanished  from  the  troubled  old 
face,  as  Lazarus  hobbled  out  of  the  room,  and  returned  to  his  kitchen. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  at  Carrick,  Mr.  Gillies  ?  "  asked  James,  with  the 
door  in  his  hand.  "  I  shall  be  there  with  Burroughs's  horse  this  afternoon." 

Mr.  Gillies  considered  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  You  may  ask  the  landlord 
to  send  me  some  provisions  at  the  same  time  with  my  trunks,  and  you  may  ask 
if  there  is  any  person  not  an  idiot  or  a  lunatic  who  will  come  here  and  do  the 
necessary  work  of  the  house." 

"  A  man  or  woman,  sir  ?  "  asked  James,  innocently. 

"  A  man,  of  course,"  replied  Gillies,  promptly,  adding,  under  his  breath,  "  A 
woman  indeed  ! " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  will  see  to  it.     Good-morning,  sir." 

"  Good-morning,  and  here,  James,  is  something  for  yourself." 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  sir.  Mr.  Vaughn  pays  me  well,  and  never  wants  any  of 
us  to  take  presents.  Good-morning."  And  James  left  the  room  with  quite 
the  air  of  a  Brutus. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

RUYLLYE   AOL   OLUDLU. 

LEFT  alone,  Mr.  Gillies's  first  movement  was  to  fasten  the  door,  his  next 
to  open  every  one  of  the  sliding  panels  and  narrowly  examine  the  recess 
within,  to  make  sure  that  none  of  them  covered  a  hidden  entrance  to  the  room. 
Then  he  seated  himself  in  the  reading  chair  occupying  the  bay  window  and 
looked  out.  It  was  like  looking  from  the  windows  of  a  ship  in  mid  ocean,  for, 
owing  to  the  peculiar  construction  of  the  opening,  no  sign  of  land  was  visible 
from  it ;  only  a  world  of  waters  stretching  wide  and  blue  to  the  horizon,  with 
the  pale  gold  of  a  winter  sun  flecking  their  surface  and  glittering  on  their  white- 
maned  crests. 

John  Gillies  looked  long  and  earnestly,  then  sadly  shook  his  head. 

"  I  doubt  if  I  ever  like  it,"  muttered  he,  and  turned  thfe  chair  with  its  back 
to  the  window.  Then,  in  a  reluctant  fashion,  as  one  who  approaches  an  impera- 
tive but  repulsive  duty,  he  drew  a  note  case  from  his  pocket  and  selected  from 
its  contents  a  paper  carefully  folded,  and  docketed 

"LETTER  OF  INSTRUCTIONS  FROM  R.  VAUGHN." 

Spreading  this  upon  the  table  before  him,  Mr.  Gillies  slowly  read — but  not 
aloud,  for,  to  have  afforded  gratuitous  information  upon  his  affairs  even  to  the 
walls  and  the  sea,  would  have  been  to  do  violence  to  his  nature — these  words : 

You  will  probably  be  much  surprised,  Mr.  John  Gillies,  at  finding  yourself  appointed 
my  heir,  and  the  explanation  I  am  about  to  give  of  my  choice,  will  leave  you  as  bewil- 
dered as  before  ;  nevertheless,  it  would  defeat  my  own  purpose  were  I  to  be  more  explicit. 

Several  years  ago,  when  I  returned  from  Europe  and  took  possession  of  my  meagre 
patrimony  of  Cragness,  I  found  my  brother  Egbert  comfortably  established  at  his  seat  of 
Bonniemeer,  and  happy  in  his  family  and  position.  The  fraternal  friendship  that  sprung 
up  between  us  was  pleasanter  than  I  can  say,  to  me,  a  man  without  ties  of  family  or  affec- 
tion other  than  those  binding  me  to  him  and  his.  I  made  a  home  of  his  house,  and  re- 
solved in  my  own  mind  to  bequeath  my  small  property  to  one  of  his  children. 

This  state  of  things  endured  for  years,  and  then  in  one  day  these  relations  and  this 
determination  were  destroyed.  I  withdrew  to  Cragness,  and  have  lived  there  until  now, 
a  lonely  and  unhappy  man.  My  motive  in  thus  destroying  the  happiness  of  my  own  life 
has  remained  up  to  this  moment  a  mystery  to  all  connected  with  it.  My  brother,  in  trying 
to  solve  it,  met  with  so  decided  a  repulse  that  he  left  me  in  displeasure,  and,  with  the  im- 


CIPHER.  29 

placable  spirit  of  our  race,  never  allowed  himself,  from  that  day  to  the  day  of  his  death, 
to  again  approach  the  subject  or  to  exhibit  any  desire  for  a  renewal  of  the  brother  y  inti- 
macy whose  loss  was  nearly  as  severe  to  him  as  to  me. 

To  you,  John  Gillies,  I  give  the  explanation  I  refused  to  my  nearest  friend.  I  had 
discovered  a  secret  relating  to  our  family  affairs  whose  announcement  would  have  mined 
at  a  blow  all  that  fair  structure  whose  corner-stones  were  my  brother's  honor,  his  wife's 
peace,  their  children's  future.  Should  I  have  been  the  one  to  bring  desolation  to  the 
home  that  had  opened  to  me  with  such  welcome  and  such  promise  ?  And  yet  might  I 
keep  this  thing  to  myself  and  feel  that  the  traditional  honor  of  the  Vaughns  had  suffered 
no  taint  ? 

For  years  I  have  vainly  sought  in  my  own  heart  for  an  answer  to  these  questions,  and 
yet  they  remain  unsolved.  While  I  have  waited,  Time  has  moved  steadily  on.  My 
brother  is  dead,  his  wife  is  dead,  of  all  the  pretty  children  who  used  to  group  about  my 
'  knee  only  two  remain,  but  those  two  stand  in  their  father's  place,  and  to  them  I  still  owe 
the  duty  I  owed  to  him. 

I  feel  that  my  own  departure  draws  nigh,  and  the  question  that  was  too  mighty  for  the 
vigor  of  manhood  is  not  to  be  solved  by  the  feeble  and  timorous  mind  of  age.  I  dare 
not  carry  the  secret  I  have  discovered  to  that  other  world  where  I  may  meet  those  who 
will  demand  account  of  it ;  I  dare  not  speak  it  out  and  bring  dishonor  and  perplexity  to 
my  brother's  house.  I  have  decided  to  commit  it  to  Destiny,  and  I  choose  you  as  the 
agent  of  Destiny.  Why  you,  why  exactly  you  and  no  other  man,  are  the  man  I  choose  as 
this  agent,  is  another  secret  belonging  only  to  myself  and  to  you,  and  its  solution  is 
bound  up  with  that  of  the  great  and  principal  one  which  has  tortured  me  to  my  death, 
and  which  I  now  bequeath  to  you  couched  in  a  cipher  peculiar  to  my  own  family  and  un- 
known beyond  it : 

EDAOLU  OE  OLUDLUV. 

In  the  interpretation  of  these  three  words,  you  have  the  clue  to  a  mystery  so  porten- 
tous that  it  has  crushed  my  b'fe  beneath  its  weight,  and  now  haunts  my  death-bed  with  a 
terrible  doubt  of  my  own  guiltlessness  in  so  long  withholding  it. 

And  yet  I  cannot  speak  it  out ;  I  cannot  Take  it  as  I  give  it  you,  John  Gillies,  and 
with  it  take  the  consciousness  that,  folded  in  this  mystery,  you  hold  the  peace,  the  honor, 
the  comfort,  the  very  life  and  name  of  a  proud  and  ancient  family.  Remember  that  you, 
of  all  men,  are  the  one  best  fitted  for  this  responsibility,  and  it  was  only  when  I  decided 
to  fmd  and  confide  in  you  that  even  death  seemed  a  possible  end  to  my  entanglement ; 
for,  as  I  before  said,  I  should  never  have  dared  to  carry  it  to  meet  those  who  wait  for  me 
beyond  the  dark  river. 

You  will  not  refuse  me,  you  dare  not,  for  it  is  from  the  grave  I  speak  to  you,  and 
charge  it  upon  you  as  a  living  man  to  obey  the  voice  of  the  dead.  Accept  my  bequest, 
accept  my  secret,  and  both  under  these  conditions  : 

You  are  to  make  Cragness  your  home,  spending  the  most  of  your  time  there,  and 
using  the  library  as  your  usual  sitting-room. 

You  are  to  make  the  most  faithful  endeavor  to  compass  the  secret  partially  confided 
to  you.  and,  if  discovered,  you  are  to  use  it  in  the  manner  which  honestly  seems  best  to 
your  own  mind,  or  at  your  option  to  destroy  all  evidence  of  it,  and  allow  matters  to  re- 
main as  destiny  has  arranged  them. 

You  are  upon  no  account  to  confide  any  particular  of  these  arrangements  to  any  mem- 
her  of  the  Vaughn  family,  although  you  are  allowed  to  use  your  own  judgment  in  select- 
ing an  adviser  outside  of  that  circle  ;  your  natural  reticence  of  disposition  being  guaran- 
tee that  this  permission  will  not  be  abused. 

If  you  wish  for  such  help  as  is  to  be  found  in  a  history  of  my  family,  you  may  obtain 
it  from  either  member  of  the  firm  of  Jones,  Brown  &  Robinson,  our  solicitors  for  many 
years. 

As  to  your  testamentary  disposition  of  the  property  bequeathed  by  me  to  you,  I  say 
nothing  more  than  that  I  shall  expect  it  to  be  guided  by  the  result  of  your  researches. 

And  now  I  leave  the  matter  to  Destiny  and  to  you.     If  the  infirm  purpose  and  vac* 


30  CIPHER. 

illating  will  which  have  been  my  bane  through  life  have  misled  me  at  the  last,  may  God 
pardon  me  and  inspire  my  successor  with  more  wisdom.  REGINALD  VAUGHN. 

"  In  this  room,"  muttered  Gillies,  finishing  and  folding  the  letter.  Then  he 
rose  and  surveyed  the  room  as  an  athlete  measures  the  foe  with  whom  he  is 
about  to  grapple  in  deadly  conflict.  A  room  of  mysteries,  he  felt.  A  room 
whose  every  object  looked  at  him  with  wary  eyes  and  close-shut  mouth,  as  who 
should  say,  "  I  have  the  secret,  and  I  shall  keep  it."  A  look  answering  line  for 
line  to  the  stubborn  determination  of  his  own  face,  and,  indeed,  as  room  and 
man  stood  confronted,  an  observer  could  not  fail  to  perceive  one  of  those  subtle 
likenesses  by  no  means  unusual  between  men  and  things,  resulting  now  in  at- 
traction, now  in  repulsion.  In  the  present  instance,  the  relation  threatened  to 
become  antagonistic,  for  the  stubborn  and  reticent  man  demanding  the  secret 
which  the  equally  stubborn  and  reticent  room  refused  to  yield,  would  inevitably 
come  to  hate  the  thing  that  too  successfully  resisted  him,  and  a  room  so  per- 
sonal as  this  library  of  Cragness  would  be  at  no  loss  for  means  to  make  itself 
odious  to  the  man  who  defied  it. 

Some  vague  perception  of  this  strange  relation  between  himself  and  the 
place  must  have  stirred  in  John  Gillies's  own  mind,  when,  with  clenched  hand 
and  frowning  brow  he  turned  his  cold  eyes  once  more  to  every  side,  and  mut- 
tered, 

"I'll  have  it  yet !" 

A  sudden  chill  seemed  to  fall  at  the  words  from  roof  and  walls,  and  in  at  the 
broad  sea-window.  An  involuntary  shiver  ran  through  the  flesh  and  blood 
which  it  assailed  ;  but  the  man's  will  neither  shook  or  faltered. 

Striding  to  the  fire-place,  he  threw  another  fragment  of  the  old  wreck  upon 
the  embers,  and  then  standing  upon  the  hearth,  his  back  to  the  room,  applied 
himself  to  seriously  consider  the  heraldic  achievement  before  him,  an  object  to 
which  he  had  hitherto  paid  but  small  attention.  The  shield  was  a  proud  one. 
Upon  an  azure  "field  it  bore  a  knight  in  golden  armor,  his  lance  couched  for  the 
the  onset,  his  left  hand  guiding  his  sable  war-horse.  The  crest  was  an  argent 
passion-cross,  upborne  by  angels'  wings.  The  motto  enwrought  in  golden  let- 
ters upon  a  fanciful  scroll  was — 

Diett,  le  roy,  et  le  foy  du  Vaughn. 

The  whole  was  surrounded  by  the  quaint  and  many-colored  arabesques  known 
to  the  heralds  as  the  lambrequin. 

This  device  John  Gillies  examined  in  detaU,  with  the  same  grave  attention 
which  he  bestowed  upon  everything;  but  even  here  found  cause  of  discontent. 

"  The  knight  has  his  face  covered,  and  the  motto  is  in  a  foreign  language," 
said  he,  and  taking  a  book  from  the  mantel-shelf  he  resolutely  began  at  the  title- 
page  and  read  until  the  gathering  dusk  warned  him  that  night  was  approaching. 

Then,  suffering  the  book  to  fall  to  the  floor  at  his  feet,  and,  leaning  back  in 
the  old  chair,  he  allowed  his  mind  for  the  first  time  to  turn  upon  the  strange 
circumstances  surrounding  him. 

The  sound  of  footsteps  and  a  feeble  knock  at  the  door  aroused  him,  and 
opening  he  found  old  Lazarus  upon  the  threshold,  with  a  broad-shouldered, 
awkward  fellow  behind  him. 

"  There,  I  told  you  there  was  no  one  here  but  Mr.  Reginald,"  said  Lazarus, 
peevishly. 

"  That  ain't  Mr.  Reginald,  you  old  simpleton — it's  Mr.  Gillies,  the  very  man 
I  was  asking  for,"  retorted  the  stranger  in  a  loud  whisper ;  and  then,  stepping 


CIPHER.  31 

forward,  he  said,  with  the  mixture  of  awkwardness  and  conscious  independence 
peculiar  to  the  American  rustic  and  to  no  other  class  of  men  beneath  the  sun : 

"  My  name's  Brume.  I  live  down  to  Carrick,  and  see  you  last  night  when 
you  came  in  the  stage.  Jim  Powers,  that  stops  to  Frederic  Vaughn's,  was  down 
to  the  tavern  awhile  ago,  and  said  you  wanted  your  things  fetched  up,  and  would 
like  a  man  to  stop  awhile,  and  sort  of  help  along  a  little.  So  I  thought,  as  I'd 
nothing  particular  to  do  just  now,  and  it's  sort  of  tedious  sitting  round  all  day, 
I'd  fetch  up  the  things,  and,  if  we  suited  each  other,  I  might  stop." 

"  As  a  servant  ?  "  enquired  Gillies,  calmly. 

"  O  waal,  cap'n,  we  don't  need  to  call  no  names  about  it.  I  know  how  to 
take  hold  of  most  anything ;  been  to  sea  for  cook  and  steward,  and  are  what 
they  call  a  jack-of-all-trades.  I'll  do  pretty  nigh  as  you'd  like  to  have  me  ;  but 
I  can't  begin,  going  on  forty,  to  call  any  man  master,  or  myself  servant." 

"  So  long  as  you  perform  service  you  are  a  servant,"  said  Mr.  Gillies,  posi- 
tively ;  "  but  the  name  under  which  you  perform  it  makes  no  difference  to  me  ; 
if  it  does  to  you,  choose  what  suits  you  best.  I  will  make  enquiries  about  you 
in  Carrick,  and  if  the  answers  are  satisfactory  I  will  engage  you,  at  such  wages 
as  we  may  decide  upon.  Do  you  wish  to  stay  on  these  conditions  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  cap'n ;  I  expect  I  might  as  well,"  said  Reuben,  rather  doubt- 
fully : 

"  I  shall  require  very  little  of  anyone,"  added  Mr.  Gillies,  "and  shall  choose 
to  see  as  little  as  possible  of  any  one.  This  old  man  is  to  stay,  and  be  treated 
with  consideration." 

"  Old  Lahs'rus  !  Oh,  sartin.  He's  one  of  the  old  stand-bys,  and  I  shouldn't 
never  think  of  setting  up  agin  him,"  said  Mr.  Brume,  with  an  approving  slap 
upon  the  shoulder  of  the  old  man,  wrho,  with  one  withered  finger  at  his  lips,  was 
staring  uneasily  from  one  speaker  to  the  other,  and  again  past  them  both  into 
the  library,  whence  he  seemed  to  expect  the  momentary  appearance  of  one  who 
should,  assuming  his  rightful  place  in  the  house,  drive  out  these  vexatious  in- 
truders and  reestablish  the  old  order  of  things. 

"  At  present,"  said  Mr.  Gillies,  coldly,  "  I  should  like  some  dinner.  You 
may  see,  if  you  please,  if  anything  is  to  be  found  in  the  house." 

"  There,  now,"  said  Reuben,  with  a  sudden  illumination  of  countenance,  "  I 
guessed  right  for  once,  I'll  bet  a  cent.  Jim  told  me  how  matters  wos  up  here, 
and  that  he  didn't  b'lieve  Lahs'rus  would  make  out  anything  of  a  dinner  for  you. 
So  I  told  Burroughs  he  might  put  up  a  basket  of  vittles,  and  I'd  fetch  'em  along. 
Even  if  you'd  got  something,  I  thought  they  might  work  in  handy;  for  I'm 
pretty  hearty  to  eat,  myself,  and  if  you  wasn't  a  mind  to  take  'em,  why  I  told  him 
I'd  pay  for  'em  out  of  my  own  pocket.  I  reckon  'twouldn't  break  me,  though  I 
don't  pretend  to  be  a  Creshus." 

"  You  did  very  well,  although  ordinarily  I  do  not  wish  any  one  to  make  pur- 
chases for  me  without  orders,"  said  Mr.  Gillies.  "  I  will  eat  here.  Bring  in 
what  you  have  prepared,  and  then  see  about  my  bed  and  your  own." 

"  All  right,  cap'n.  I  reck'n  we'll  keep  her  before  the  wind,  though  we  be 
rather  light-handed,"  said  Reuben,  cheerily ;  and,  taking  possession  of  old  Laz- 
arus, he  withdrew,  closing  the  door  behind  him,  while  his  new  master,  returning 
to  the  fire-place,  stirred  the  brands  until  a  river  of  sparks  flowed  up  the  broad 
rhimney,  and  great  billows  of  light  surged  into  every  corner  of  the  dark  room, 
and  flashed  from  the  oriel-window  out  upon  the  waters,  so  that  the  bewildered 
mariners  thought  to  have  discovered  a  new  Pharos  upon  the  dangerous  coast. 


32  CIPHER. 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE   GOLDEN   SERPENT. 

IT  was  the  day  after  the  double  funeral  had  taken  its  sad  path  from  the  gates 
of  Bonniemeer,  and  Vaughn  sat  alone  in  his  study,  helpless  under  the  sense  of 
lonely  desolation  which  no  words  can  paint  to  him  who  has  never  known  it, 
which  no  time  can  efface  from  the  memory  of  him  who  has. 

One  of  the  commonest  impulses  of  this  condition  of  restless  misery  is  toward 
flight — a  flight  terminating  often  like  his  of  the  song,  «who,  fleeing  from  his 
household  demon,  heard  it  call  to  the  wayfarers  from  the  loaded  wain,  "  Aye, 
we're  all  a-flitting  !  "  and  so  turned  back  to  wrestle  with  it  beneath  his  own  roof- 
tree,  rather  than  in  the  open  world. 

This  impulse  toward  flight  now  possessed  the  widowed  Vaughn,  and,  yielding 
to  it  upon  the  moment,  he  rang  a  bell,  and  summoned  Mrs.  Rhee  to  his  presence. 

She  came,  and  stood  within  the  door,  pale,  haggard,  wasted,  her  eyes  faded 
with  incessant  tears,  her  mouth  tremulous  with  ill-suppressed  emotion. 

Vaughn  glanced  at  her,  carelessly  at  first,  then  with  a  steady  scrutiny.  The 
housekeeper  returned  the  look,  and  the  Secret — THE  SECRET  that  lay  between 
them,  spoke  from  eye  to  eye,  imploring,  refusing,  appealing,  denying,  until  the 
woman  hid  her  face  within  her  wasted  hands,  and  Vaughn,  springing  from  his 
seat,  trod  as  impatiently  up  and  down  the  room  as  though  he  could  thus  trample 
out  of  sight  a  past  that  would  not  be  left  behind. 

Presently,  commanding  himself,  he  said,  with  measured  calmness, 

"  Sit  down,  Anita.     I  wish  to  speak  with  you  on  matters  of  business  alone." 

The  housekeeper  mutely  obeyed. 

"  I  am  going  abroad,  it  may  be  for  some  years,"  pursued  Vaughn,  no  longer 
looking  at  her,  but  hastening  to  place  his  resolution  in  words  binding  upon  them 
both. 

"  I  shall  leave  business  matters  in  the  hands  of  my  lawyers,  one  of  whom 
will  be  appointed  my  agent  here,  but  to  you  I  wish  to  entrust  the  affairs  of  the 
house  and  the  care  of  the  child — of  Gabrielle's  child.  You  should  be  a  second 
mother  to  her,  Anita."  • 

He  paused,  and  looked  at  her  with  strange  significance  and  yet  a  strange  re- 
luctance. 

She  looked  as  steadily  at  him,  and  said, 

"  You  may  trust  me.  I  will  be  a  mother  to  the  child  of  Gabrielle,  and — you. 
I,  who  have  no  child,  can  pity  this  motherless  baby,  can  love  her  in  place  of  my 
own." 

The  unutterable  pathos  of  her  voice  reached  his  inmost  heart  and  roused  not 
sympathy  alone,  but  such  a  storm  of  conflicting  emotions  as  swept  his  very  soul 
before  it  and  bowed  him  to  the  earth.  He  turned  from  her,  hiding  his  face,  and 
through  the  heavy  silence  of  the  room  was  heard  a  dull  throbbing  sound  as  of 
some  hidden  clepsydra.  That  sound  was  the  beating  of  Anita's  heart,  as  stand- 
ing with  her  hands  clasped  above  it,  her  figure  inclined  forward,  her  lips  parted, 
her  eyes  glowing,  her  color  faded  to  an  ashy  pallor,  she  watched  the  man  before 
her — watched  till  the  crisis  should  be  past  and  the  tenor  of  her  future  life  de- 
clared. 

Suddenly  Vaughn  turned  and  looked  at  her.  She  read  his  face  eagerly  as 
one  might  read  the  page  of  futurity  held  open  in  a  wizard's  hand.  She  read 
there  pity,  sympathy,  and  an  inexorable  resolution — a  resolution  based  upon  the 


CIPHER.  33 

very  foundations  of  the  man's  nature,  and  no  more  to  be  overthrown.  She  read, 
and  with  a  bitter,  bitter  moan  she  turned  away,  the  thin  hands  clasping  yet  more 
fiercely  the  throbbing  heart  whose  every  bound  seemed  like  to  be  its  last.  Could 
she  have  doubted  his  face,  the  first  tones  of  his  voice  would  have  proved  to  her 
that  she  had  not  deceived  herself. 

"  If  the  future  looks  cold  and  barren  to  you,  Anita,  remember  that  it  is  to  be 
conquered  by  your  own  effort.  So  far  as  physical  well-being  is  concerned,  I  can 
assure  it  to  you — the  rest  you  must  do  for  yourself.  We  all  have  our  own  fight 
to  make  in  one  way  or  another." 

He  waited,  but  she  would  neither  speak  nor  look,  and  he  went  on,  resolutely, 

"  I  may  be  gone  a  long  time.  You  will  hear  from  me  through  my  business 
agent,  and  I  shall  wish  you  to  write,  through  the  same  medium,  of  matters  con- 
nected with  the  child  or  the  house  that  you  may  wish  to  communicate." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  approached  a  little  nearer  to  where  she  stood 
with  drooping  head  and  downcast  eyes,  one  hand  resting  lightly  upon  a  chair, 
the  other  hanging  nervelessly  beside  her. 

"There  is  one  thing  that  you  must  promise  me,  Anita.  The  child  must 
never  know,  must  never  suspect  even  so  remotely.  Can  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  promised  the  same  thing  two  years  ago,  when  you  married  Gabrielle," 
replied  the  housekeeper,  half  scornfully.  "  Have  I  ever  broken  that  promise  ?  " 

"  Never,  as  I  firmly  believe.  But  now  you  will  be  alone,  and  you  will  love 
this  little  child  so  much  that  it  will  be  hard." 

"  Is  it  the  only  thing  in  my  life  that  is  hard  ?  "  asked  she,  sharply. 

"  No.  I  have  told  you  that  we  have  all  our  own  fight  to  make.  If  yours  is 
a  hard  one  through  act  of  mine,  may  God  and  you  forgive  me.  Do  not  fear  that 
I  shall  not  suffer  the  full  penalty  of  my  own  misdoings.  Do  not  doubt  that  my 
own  conscience  has  said  and  will  say  all  and  more  than  you,  or  Gabrielle,  or  even 
this  new-l5orn  child  has  a  right  to  say.  If  you  suffer,  Anita,  you  do  not  suffer 
alone.  And  now  I  will  have  no  more  of  this.  From  this  moment  we  speak  to- 
gether in  only  our  obvious  relations.  You  quite  understand  my  wishes  in  regard 
to  the  child." 

"  Quite,  sir.  Am  I  to  address  her  entirely  as  Miss  Vaughn,  or  will  you  give 
her  a  Christian  name  ?  " 

Putting  aside  the  sarcasm  without  notice,  Vaughn  replied, 

"  Certainly  she  must  be  named,  and  she  shall  have  a  name  expressing  her 
birthright.  Call  her  Franc  ;  it  means  free." 

"  Not  Gabrielle  ? "  asked  the  housekeeper,  impetuously. 

"  No  ;  Franc,  or  perhaps  Francia  is  better.     Let  her  be  called  Francia." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  housekeeper,  her  voice  as  coldly  submissive  as  his  was 
coldly  determined. 

"  Chloe,  of  course,  will  be  her  nurse,  and  you  will  guarantee  Chloe's  silence, 
as  heretofore,  I  presume." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I  believe  that  is  all,  then.  I  shall  see  you  again  upon  some  household  mat- 
ters not  yet  decided." 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  the  other  little  girl,  sir  ?  The  child  of  the  woman 
found  dead  on  the  beach." 

"  Ah.  I  had  forgotten.  Is  she  an  intelligent  and  well-formed  child,  healthy 
and  bright  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  should  judge  so. 


34  CIPHER. 

"  Let  her  be  educated  with  Francia,  then,  and  precisely  in  the  same  manner, 
Regard  her  as  my  adopted  daughter,  and  make  no  difference  between  them  in 
any  way.  I  will  never  commit  the"  cruelty  of  rearing  a  child  beneath  my  roof  to  . 
a  condition  of  dependence  and  sycophancy.  The  finest  nature  must  become  de- 
based or  crushed  by  such  a  life.  Educate  her  in  every  respect  as  if  she  were 
Francia's  sister,  and  let  her  story  be  kept  a  secret  from  her  as  long  as  possible. 
Look  to  this,  if  you  please." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  She  must  be  named,  also." 

"  She  is  named  already,  sir.  At  least  the  word  Neria  is  pricked  into  her 
shoulder  with  Indian  ink,  and  I  take  it  to  be  her  name,"  said  Mrs.  Rhee,  some- 
what contemptuously. 

"  Neria  ?  The  mermaids  must  have  named  her  before  they  left  her  on  the 
shore.  Well,  it  is  a  pretty  name.  Let  it  belong  to  her.  Was  there  nothing 
about  the  mother  to  tell  who  she  was  or  where  she  came  from  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  sir.  She  looked  like  a  lady,  although  her  clothes  were  poor  and 
worn.  She  had  a  wedding  ring,  and  wore  a  curious  bracelet,  but  neither  of  them 
were  marked,  nor  were  any  of  her  clothes.  James  has  inquired  at  Carrick,  but 
no  one  saw  her  pass  through,  except  an  old  man,  who  remembers  that  some  one 
asked  if  Mr.  Vaughn  lived  near  here,  and  he  directed  her  to  this  house  ;  but  it 
stormed  so  that  he  did  not  notice  much  how  she  looked,  or  ask  any  questions  as 
to  where  she  came  from,  or  anything." 

"  Probably  she  wanted  help,  and  had  been  referred  to  me,"  said  Vaughn, 
quietly  settling  in  his  own  mind  a  question  that  should  not  have  been  so  readily 
answered.  "  Where  is  the  bracelet  of  which  you  speak  ?  " 

"  Here,  sir.  I  brought  it  to  give  into  your  own  charge,  as  it  appears  very 
valuable." 

She  laid  it  in  his  hand  as  she  spoke.  A  golden  serpent,  his  scales  delicately 
wrought  in  the  old  Venetian  style,  and  so  subtly  jointed  as  to  writhe  at  every 
motion  with  all  the  graceful  convolutions  of  his  kind.  The  flattened  head  was 
set  with  an  emerald  crest  and  diamond  eyes,  while  between  the  distended  jaws 
flickered  a  flame-like  tongue  carved  from  a  single  ruby. 

Vaughn,  who  had  a  luxurious  fancy  for  rare  gems,  looked  with  delight  at  the 
exquisite  toy  coiled  upon  his  hand,  vibrating  with  every  throb  of  its  pulses,  and 
flashing  back  the  sunlight  from  its  diamond  eyes  with  a  cold  glitter  half  diabolical 
in  its  life-likeness. 

"It  must  be  an  heir-loom  of  some  old  family,"  said  he.  "Our  paltry  gold- 
smiths do  not  conceive  such  exquisite  fancies.  And  the  workmanship  is  the 
Venetian  style  of  the  last  century — genuine,  too;  it  is  no  modern  imitation.  Is 
there  no  mark  upon  it  of  any  kind  ?  " 

"  No,  I  believe  not,"  replied  the  housekeeper,  wearily,  while  through  her  mind 
glanced  the  question, 

"  Can  he  really  care  more  for  this  toy  than  for  the  anguish  devouring  my 
heart ! " 

"  Yet,  but  there  is.  See  here."  And  unheeding  the  swimming  eyes  that 
sought  his  own,  Vaughn  showed  where,  upon  the  serpent's  throat,  one  scale  was 
marked  in  tiny  characters  with  the  initials  "  F.  V.,  1650."  Upon  the  scale  above 
was  traced  the  outline  of  a  crest,  but  so  faintly  that  Vaughn  failed  to  make  it  out 
by  the  minutest  scrutiny. 

" '  F.  V.'     Why,  those  are  my  little  Francia's  initials,"  said  he,  musingly. 


Dra-mti  by  Sot  Eytinge. 

"  IT    MUST   BE   AN    HEIR-LOOM   OF   SOME   OLD    FAMILY,"  SAID    HE. — 


CIPHER.  35 

"  Who  knows  but  this  precious  bracelet  is  actually  a  family  jewel  of  our  own, 
You  say  the  woman  was  inquiring  for  me.  I  must  see  the  old  man  you  speak 
of  before  I  leave." 

"  He  knows  no  more  than  I  told  you,  sir.  I  have  seen  him  myself.  I  did 
not  suppose  you  would  be  able  to  speak  with  him  so  soon " 

She  glanced  at  him  half  reproachfully  as  she  spoke,  and  a  shadow  crossed 
his  face. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  he,  hurriedly,  "  I  do  not  forget  my  loss  in  caring  for  the 
living.  This  child  is  now  my  charge,  and  I  shall  attend  to  her  interests  as  care- 
fully as  to  those  of  my  own  daughter.  The  bracelet  I  shall  put  away  until  Neria 
is  old  enough  to  wear  it ;  and  before  leaving  home  I  shall  make  all  possible  in- 
quiries concerning  her  mother's  story.  And  now,  Anita,  good-by.  I  shall  not 
see  you  alone  again  until  time  has  done  so  much  for  both  of  us  that  we  need  not 
fear  to  meet." 

He  took  her  hand,  looked  down  into  the  dark  eyes  raised  to  his  with  such  an 
ocean  of  anguish  in  their  depths,  and  then,  half  drawn  by  them,  half  impelled 
by  his  own  tender  nature,  he  stooped  and  kissed  her.  • 

A  vivid  scarlet  stained  her  cheeks,  a  wild  joy  lighted  her  eyes  ;  and  as  she 
slowly  withdrew  her  hand  and  left  the  room,  every  line  of  her  supple  figure, 
every  motion  of  her  graceful  head,  so  expressed  the  new  life  burning  in  her 
veins  that  Vaughn,  watching  her,  muttered,  as  she  closed  the  door, 

"  It  was  folly,  it  was  inconsistent.  But  it  is  the  last.  Never  again,  Anita, 
never  again." 

And  Fate,  listening,  smiled  a  scornful  smile,  whispering, 

"  Yet  once  more   Frederic  Vaughn,  yet  once  more,  and  in  your  own  despite." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TIGER     TAMING. 

IN  pursuance  of  the  intention  expressed  to  his  new  retainer,  Mr.  Gillies  took 
an  early  opportunity  of  ascertaining  Reuben's  reputation  in  his  native  village. 

"  O,  there  ain't  no  harm  in  the'fellow,"  said  Mr.  Burroughs,  to  whom  his  first 
inquiry  was  addressed.  "  I  guess  the  worst  that's  to  say  of  him  is  that  he's  sort 
o'  slack,  and  had  rather  luff  and  bear  away  than  to  keep  her  right  up  in  the 
wind's  eye.  But  he's  handy,  Reub  is,  and  can  do  first  rate  if  he's  a  mind  to.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  he  answered  your  purpose,  Cap'n,  as  well  as  a  better  man. 
But  what  does  Nance  say  about  it  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know  to  whom  you  refer,"  said  Mr.  Gillies,  in  his  driest  manner. 

"Why,  Reub's  wife,  Nancy  Brume.  If  she  hain't  gi'n  her  consent,  it  won't 
do  no  good  to  ship  him.  She'll  be  after  him,  and  get  him,  too." 

Mr.  Gillies  looked  puzzled  and  disgusted,  but  made  no  reply. 

"  Tell  you  what,  Cap'n,"  pursued  the  good-natured  publican,  "  why  don't  you 
jest  step  over  there,  and  speak  to  Nance  about  it  yourself.  It  seems  a  pity  you 
shouldn't  have  Reub,  and  I  tell  you  now,  Nance  is  skipper  of  that  concern,  and 
is  the  one  you've  got  to  reckon  with  first  or  last.  If  you  don't  go  and  see  her, 
she'll  be  up  to  see  you  before  many  days  are  over." 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  ejaculated  Gillies  ;  and  after  a  moment  of  consideration, 
briefly  added, 

"  Very  well,  I  will  go.     Where  does  she  live  ?  " 


36  CIPHER. 

Stepping  out  upon  the  porch,  Burroughs  pointed  to  the  little  cottage  from 
whose  door  the  fish-horn  had  been  so  vigorously  blown  upon  the  evening  when 
Mr.  Gillies  was  first  introduced  to  the  village  of  Carrick. 

"  That's  the  house,  and  I  guess  you'll  find  her  to  home.  Don't  be  scared  if 
she's  kind  of  rough  at  first,  Cap'n.  Her  bark's  worse'n  her  bite." 

To  this  friendly  advice,  Mr.  Gillies  deigned  no  answer  whatever,  but  stepping 
off  the  porch,  walked  briskly  in  the  direction  indicated. 

The  door  of  the  cottage  stood  open,  and  the  visitor  paused  a  moment  before 
it,  in  some  doubt  how  best  to  make  his  presence  known,  when  a  sudden  uproar 
arose  within,  and  a  boy,  dressed  in  a  fisherman's  coarse  clothes  and  heavy  boots, 
fled 'out  of  the  door  and  down  the  street,  pursued  by  a  tall  wiry  woman  holding 
a  large  fish  by  the  gills,  which  novel  instrument  of  punishment  she  heartily 
applied  about  the  boy's  head  and  shoulders  whenever  she  could  reach  him, 
shouting  at  the  same  time, 

"  I'll  teach  ye  to  fetch  me  a  hahdock  agin,  ye  young  sculpin  !  Didn't  I  tell 
ye  I  wanted  a  cod,  and  what  d'ye  s'pose  I  care  how  many  they  took  up  to  Fred 
•Vaughn's.  Think  I'll  be  put  off  with  a  hahdock  while  other  folks  eats  cod  ? 
Take  that,  and  that,  and  that !  " 

And  as  little  else  than  the  head  of  the  offending  haddock  now  remained  in 
the  fair  epicure's  hand,  she  seized  the  lad  by  his  shock  of  wiry  hair,  and  bending 
his  head  back  upon  her  arm,  scrubbed  his  face  with  the  remnant  offish,  until  the 
luckless  fellow,  screaming  with  mingled  rage  and  terror,  broke  away  and  rushed 
down  the  street. 

Mrs.  Brume  looked  after  him  a  moment,  and  then  slowly  turned  toward  home, 
wiping  her  hands  upon  her  apron,  and  muttering  to  herself  invectives,  mingled 
with  self-gratulation. 

Mr.  Gillies  stood  upon  the  door-step  with  a  face  of  unmoved  gravity. 

'•  Does  Mrs.  Brume  live  here  ?  "  inquired  he,  as  the  virago  approached. 

"Yes,  I'm  Miss  Brume,"  replied  she,  in  an  uncompromising  manner. 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you,  then,  for  a  few  moments. 

"  Well,  you  can  come  in."  And  Mrs.  Brume  led  the  way  into  a  vigorously 
tidy  kitchen,  and  after  setting  a  wooden  chair  for  her  guest,  retired  to  a  back 
room  to  remove  the  traces  of  her  late  encounter.  While  she  was  gone,  Mr. 
Gillies  cast  an  observant  glance  about  the  room.  Everything  was  as  clean,  as 
orderly,  and  as  uninviting,  as  hands  could  make  it.  The  white  floor  was  scoured 
and  sanded,  the  stove  blackened  and  polished,  the  windows  as  nearly  transparent 
as  the  green  and  wavy  glass  could  be  made.  Even  the  cat  blinking  in  the  sunny 
corner  had  a  wan  and  subdueti  expression,  as  if  her  natural  depravity,  and  with 
it  her  vitality  had  been  nearly  cleansed  away. 

Mrs.  Brume  returned,  her  face  and  hands  red  with  ablution  and  excitement, 
her  hair,  also  red,  smoothed,  and  a  clean  white  apron  tied  tightly  about  her 
waist.  Seating  herself  in  a  chair  opposite  her  guest,  she  opened  the  conversa- 
tion by  saying, 

"  Like  enough  you  thought  strange  to  see  me  so  mad  with  that  young  one, 
but  he  hadn't  no  business  to  bring  me  a  hahdock  when  I  spoke  for  a  cod,  and  I 
ain't  one  of  them  kind  as  puts  up  with  everything  and  never  says  a  word.  I'm 
apt  to  spezk  my  mind,  specially  if  I'm  a  little  riled,  and  I'd  as  lief  one  man 
would  hear  me  as  another." 

To  this  ingenuous  confession  Mr.  Gillies  responded  by  a  slight  bow,  and  then 
said, 


CIPHER.  37 

"  I  called  to  let  you  know,  Mrs.  Brume,  that  your  husband  thinks  of  remain- 
ing with  me  for  the  present.  My  name  is  Gillies,  and  I  live  at  Cragness,  the 
estate  of  the  late  Mr.  Reginald  Vaughn." 

Mrs.  Brume's  color  rose,  and  she  twitched  at  the  strings  of  her  apron,  but  as 
she  raised  her  eyes  they  met  the  cold  grave  look  steadily  bent  upon  her,  and 
with  a  very  unusual  effort  to  suppress  her  rising  wrath,  she  asked, 

"  How  long  does  he  think  of  stopping  ?" 

"  As  long  as  I  wish  to  employ  him,"  returned  Gillies,  coolly. 

"  O — h  !  "  replied  Mistress  Brume,  slowly,  while  an  ominous  pallor  settled 
about  her  lips,  and  her  hands  flew  to  her  hips. 

"And  if  I  might  ask  without  offence,  Mr.  Gillies,  I'd  just  like  to  know  how 
long  you  calc'late  to  keep  a  honest  woman's  husband  away  from  her  ?  " 

"  So  long  as  he  wishes  to  remain,"  replied  Gillies,  in  the  same  imperturbable 
manner,  and  beneath  that  manner  and  that  steady  gaze  Nancy  Brume  found  her 
usually  unfailing  powers  of  invective  mysteriously  checked  and  subdued.  She 
bravely  tried  to  rally  her  forces. 

"  O  well,"  said  she,  bridling,  "  I  don't  suppose  its  of  no  consequence  to 
either  one  of  you  what  I  think  about  it.  A  poor  weak  woman  hain't  got  no 
chance  when  the  man  as  had  ought  to  look  out  for  her  can  get  them  as  calls 
themselves  gentlemen  to  back  him  up  and  help  him  along  in  trampling  onto 
her  feelings — " 

But  these  same  feelings  of  Nancy  Brume's,  denied  full  expression  in  their 
usual  manner,  found  sudden  vent  in  another  form,  and  she  burst  into  tears,  sob- 
bing from  behind  the  white  apron. 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  what  I  ever  did  to  you,  sir,  that  you  should  come 
and  take  away  my  husband  this  way,  and  then  set  there  as  cold  as  I  don't 
know  what,  and — make  from  fun  of  me,  and  all." 

"Make  fun  of  you,  ma'am!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Gillies,  indignantly,  and  indeed 
the  phrase  by  which  Dame  Brume  had  sought  to  express  the  unsympathizing 
and  unassailable  manner  of  her  guest  was  ludicrously  inappropriate,  although 
sufficiently  significant  of  a  jealousy  almost  'universal  in  her  class  toward  its 
social  superiors.  Nancy,  unable  to  defend  her  position,  with  feminine  quickness 
changed  her  base  of  operations. 

"I'm  sure  I've  been  as  good  a  wife  to  that  man  as  there  is  in  Carrick.  His 
house  has  been  kept  tidy  and  his  vittles  has  been  cooked  reg'lar,  and  if  his 
clo's  hain't  always  been  whole  and  neat,  it  wasn't  my  fault,  but  his'n,  which  he 
wouldn't  leave  'em  off—" 

"Mrs.  Brume  !  will  you  stop  and  listen  to  me  !"  interrupted  Mr.  Gillies,  so 
decidedly,  that  the  white  apron  suddenly  dropped  into  Nancy's  lap,  disclosing  a 
scarlet  but  attentive  face. 

Mr.  Gillies  glanced  at  it  and  then  away.  Poor  Nancy's  beauty  was  not  of  the 
exceptional  style  to  which  tears  are  an  added  charm. 

"What  I  wish  to  say  is  simply  this,"  continued  the  guest,  rising  to  depart. 
"  I  have  taken  your  husband  into  my  service  for  an  indefinite  period,  and  think- 
ing it  proper  you  should  be  informed  of  the  fact,  I  called  here  to  mention  it. 
With  your  matrimonial  virtues  or  faults  I  have,  of  course,  no  concern,  and 
merely  came  here  to-day  lest  you  should  think  it  necessa:y  to  seek  your  hus- 
band at  Cragness." 

"  I  don't  know  but  I've  been  kind  o'  ha'sh,  sometimes,"  pursued  the  wife, 
more  attentive  to  her  own  course  of  thought  than  to  the  cold  words  of  her  guest, 


38  CIPHER. 

"but  I've  set  more  by  Reub  than  he  knowed,  I  guess,  and  though  I  did  put  him 
out  and  lock  the  door  t'other  day  I  never  thought  he  was  going  off  for  good.  I 
wish't  you'd  let  him  come  home  and  have  a  talk  'long  o'  me,  Mr.  Gillies,  'fore 
you  fix  it  all  off." 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  suppose  he  wishes  for  such  permission,"  said  Gillies, 
with  grim  humor. 

"  You  don't  think  he's  give  me  up  altogether,"  cried  Nancy,  in  sudden  terror, 
and  again  the  white  apron  went  over  her  head,  and  she  rocked  to  and  fro  in  a 
paroxysm  of  grief.  The  guest  silently  walked  toward  the  door. 

"Stop  just  a  minit,  please,  sir,"  sobbed  the  deserted  wife,  and  as  Gillies  re- 
luctantly paused,  she  wiped  her  eyes,  and  looking  up  in  his  face  with  a  piteous 
smile  upon  her  hard  mouth,  said, 

"  I  wish't  you'd  take  me,  too,  sir." 

Gillies  recoiled. 

"  Take  you,  too  ! "  exclaimed  he,  in  solemn  horror. 

"  Yes,  I'd  do  all  the  work  of  your  house,  and  keep  it  real  nice  and  tidy,  too. 
Reub  can't  do  that,  nor — though  he  can  cook  pretty  well,  he  can't  come  up  to 
me,  and  I'm  a  first-rate  washer  and  ironer,  too,  and  I'll  do  just  as  you'd  like  to 
have  me.  Do  take  me  'long  o'  Reub,  Mr.  Gillies,  for  it  don't  seem  as  if  I 
could  make  up  my  mind  to  part  with  him.  I'll  come  real  cheap,  too,  it  won't 
hardly  cost  more  for  both  than  one,  and  I'm  awful  saving  about  a  house." 

There  was  a  pathos  in  the  rude  tones  and  sharp  face  of  the  wife  thus  plead- 
ing for  leave  to  work  at  her  husband's  side,  to  which  no  man  could  have  been 
quite  insensible,  and  the  shrewd  arguments  by  which  she  supported  her  proposi- 
tion produced  their  full  effect  upon  the  mind  of  her  listener. 

He  considered  for  a  moment,  and  then  said, 

"  But  your  husband  came  to  me  with  the  intention  of  separating  from  you. 
I  cannot  refuse  him  my  protection." 

"  O,  I'll  settle  with  Reub,"  said  his  spouse,  with  feminine  confidence  in  her 
own  conciliatory  powers.  "  He  sets  by  me,  same  as  I  do  by  him,  more'n  either 
of  us  let  on.  He  kind  o'  calc'lates  on  me,  too,  to  push  him  along  and  hold  him 
up  straight.  Reub'll  agree  fast  enough." 

Gillies  considered  again. 

"  Your  plan  has  its  advantages,  Mrs.  Brume,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  and  if  I 
find  Reuben  is  satisfied  with  it,  you  may  come  to  Cragness  on  trial,  and  under 
one  condition,  but  that  a  stringent  one." 

"And  what's  that,  sir?"  asked  Nancy,  beamingly. 

"  That  you  shall  never  raise  your  voice  above  its  present  tones  while  upon 
my  premises,  and  that  you  never  scold  your  husband  in  any  tones.  When  you 
find  the  vivacity  of  your  temper  beyond  your  control,  I  will  always  give  you 
permission  to  come  to  Carrick,  and  expend  it  either  upon  the  fisher  boy  or  in 
any  other  manner  you  see  fit,  but  while  under  my  roof,  I  shall  expect  it  to  be 
held  in  perfect  control.  I  am  a  quiet  man,  and  strongly  object  to  disturbance  of 
any  kind,  especially  discordant  noises." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  sir,"  said  Nancy,  meekly. 

"  That  will  not  be  sufficient,  unless  your  best  comes  up  to  my  requirements," 
returned  Gillies,  coldly.  "And  I  wish  you  to  come  with  the  understanding  that 
unless  my  conditions  are  fulfilled,  I  shall  expect  you  to  retire  from  my  house, 
leaving  your  husband  there  so  long  as  he  wishes  to  stay." 

'  I  ain't  used  to  being  beat  by  anything,  and  if  I  once  tackle  my  own  temper, 


CIPHER.  39 

I  reckon  I  can  get  the  upper  hand  of  it  same  as  I  would  of  anything  else,"  said 
Nancy,  with  the  calm  confidence  of  a  habitual  conqueror. 

"Then  I  will  speak  to  Reuben,  and,  if  he  wishes  for  your  society,  he  may 
come  down  to-night  and  tell  you  so.  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Brume." 

"  Good-day,  sir." 

As  Mr.  Gillies  walked  away,  he  smiled,  in  his  own  dry  fashion,  and  said,  in 
his  own  mind, 

"Surely,  no  man  in  his  senses  will  voluntarily  place  himself  in  that  woman's 
power,  after  having  once  escaped  from  it." 

But,  probably,  Reuben  Brume's  ideas  of  sanity  differed  from  those  of  his 
master ;  for  the  very  next  day  saw  Nartcy  installed  in  the  kitchen  of  Cragness, 
and  commencing  an  indignant  but  noiseless  raid  upon  its  many  crypts  and  by- 
places,  while  Lazarus,  seated  beside  the  fire,  watched  her  vigorous  movements 
with  dire  astonishment ;  and  Reuben  obeyed  her  numerous  mandates  with  cheer- 
ful alacrity. 

"  Looks  kind  o'  good,  arter  all,  to  see  you  round,  Nance,  specially  when 
you're  so  good-natered,"  said  he,  in  the  course  of  these  operations  ;  and  Nancy, 
womanlike,  retorted : 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  was  a  big  fool  not  to  let  well  enough  alone,  and  leave  you  to 
muddle  along  here,  best  way  you  could." 

But  Mrs.  Brume,  besides  being  a  woman  of  quick  temper,  was  a  woman  of 
powerful  will,  and  the  resolution  she  had  taken  in  coming  to  Cragness  she  kept 
as  perfectly  as  the  faulty  nature  of  humanity  would  permit ;  and  the  occasions 
when  her  husband  was  forced  to  enquire  if  he  should  "  speak  to  Mr.  Gillies  " 
became  so  rare  that  Reuben  privately  blessed  the  day  of  his  emancipation,  and 
looked  upon  his  master  with  the  admiring  awe  due  to  a  moral  Van  Amburgh. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
"THE  MAIDEN  TO  THE  HARPER'S  KNEE." 

THE  sun  of  a  summer's  day  had  just  sunk  beneath  the  horizon,  leaving  the 
western  sky  a-flood  with  a  golden  glow  unflecked  by  clouds,  while  sea 
and  earth  lay  hushed  beneath  the  grand  calm  that  ever  falls  with  such  a  sunset. 
Clouds,  gorgeous  though  they  may  be,  cannot  but  detract  from  this  calm — cannot 
but  disturb  the  unity,  the  conviction  of  eternity,  that  fills  the  heaven  and  crowns 
the  earth  in  its  presence.  The  cloudy  sunset  is  a  grand  spectacle  of  nature — 
the  golden  glow  that  seems  to  draw  us  into  itself  and  on  to  Eternity,  is  Space 
illumined  by  Divinity.  Against  this  sunset  the  trees  crowning  the  summits  of 
the  western  hills  lined  themselves  almost  leaf  by  leaf,  while  Mount  Lion,  stand- 
ing sharply  out  in  the  foreground,  loomed  black  and  forbidding  as  the  impious 
height  reared  by  Titans  who  would  fain  clamber  to  that  glory's  source.  Higher, 
the  gold  melted  through  a  belt  of  tender  green  into  the  clear  blue  of  the  zenith, 
while  all  the  East  was  veiled  in  an  amethystine  mist,  as  rare  as  it  was  lovely  in 
its  tint. 

Out  of  the  slumberous  sea  rose  a  moon  rounded  to  its  perfect  circle,  and 
with  her  splendor  fell  upon  earth  and  sea  a  benediction  : 

Peace,  O  Earth  !  be  still,  O  Sea  !  for  He  that  made  us,  reigneth. 

The  tide  was  out,  and  upon  the  grey-ribbed  sands  lay  many  a  wonder  of  the 
deep.  Shells,  pebbles,  mosses,  of  every  delicate  dye  and  graceful  form,  quiver- 
ing jelly  fish  and  awkward  insects,  lobsters,  crabs,  horse-shoes,  and  one  malevo- 
lent squid  or  cuttle  fish,  who  seized  upon  everything  within  his  grasp,  tearing 
and  crushing  it  to  atoms. 

Among  these  marine  curiosities  strolled  a  party  of  four  young  people,  three 
of  them  girls  varying  in  age  from  twelve  to  seventeen,  the  fourth  a  lad  of  six- 
teen, who  divided  his  attention  pretty  equally  between  his  companions  and  a 
fine  spaniel  answering  to  the  name  of  Otter,  who  seemed  to  ask  no  better  amuse- 
ment than  to  obey  his  master's  many  and  somewhat  imperious  mandates,  frisk- 
ing now  into  the  water,  now  up  the  rocky  shingle  at  the  head  of  the  beach,  now 
forward  and  now  backward,  as  he  was  ordered. 

"Hark!  There  is  music,  an  organ,  I  should  think;  where  can  it  be?" 
asked  Claudia,  a  glowing  brunette  beauty,  and  the  eldest  of  the  three  girls. 

"  Why,  it  is  Cragness  !  Who  would  suppose  we  had  come  so  far  ?  "  said 
Francia,  looking  about  her.  "Just  round  that  rock  you  will  see  the  library  win- 
dow, Claudia,  built  out  over  the  water.  That,  is  all  you  can  see  of  the  house 
from  the  beach." 


CIPHER.  41 

"  Let  us  go  on,  then,  and  listen  to  the  music.  Does  that  old  scarecrow  of  a 
Gillies  play  like  that?"  asked  her  cousin,  in  contemptuous  surprise,  as  she  led 
the  way  onward  and  paused  at  last  directly  beneath  the  deep  bay  window  of  the 
library  of  Cragness. 

The  others  followed,  Francia  skipping  along  beside  Claudia,  narrating  in  a 
tone  of  lively  gossip  such  particulars  as  Were  current  in  regard  to  Mr.  Gillies's 
mode  of  life,  and  adding  comment  and  suggestion  from  her  own  merry  wit. 

Behind  them  walked  Neria,  a  tall,  slight  girl,  of  a  face  and  figure  promising, 
through  the  immaturity  of  their  thirteen  years,  a  development  of  rare  loveliness. 
With  bent  head,  and  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ocean  and  the  rising  moon,  she  seemed 
to  care  as  little  for  the  lively  chat  of  the  girls  in  front  as  the  rude  play  of  the 
boy  and  dog  behind  her. 

Claudia,  who  had  the  sensuous  love  of  music  befitting  her  temperament, 
paused  beneath  the  window,  and,  imposing  silence  upon  her  companion,  seated 
herself  upon  the  rocks  to  listen.  Francia  wandered  down  upon  the  sands,  col- 
lecting brilliant  pebbles,  in  the  next  moment  to  be  thrown  away,  and  about  mid- 
way between  them  stood  Neria,  her  hands  locked  together,  her  head  drooping, 
her  dreamy  eyes  fixed  upon  the  water,  and  a  faint  .smile  stirring  her  sensitive 
mouth. 

Beneath  the  hands  of  its  master,  the  great  organ  poured  out  its  soul  in  mu- 
sic, exalting  like  the  archangel  who  soars  undazzled  to  the  foot  of  the  throne, 
piling  chord  upon  chord  in  massive  harmony  until  great  billows  of  sound  swept 
out  upon  the  breathless  air  and  surged  up  to  the  open  gates  of  heaven.  The 
solemn  ecstasy  reached  its  height,  and  fell,  through  fine  gradations,  to  a  single 
silvery  melody,  pure  and  s'weet  as  the  song  the  shepherds  sung  upon  the  heights 
of  Bethlehem ;  then  wandered  on  through  dreamy  variations  until  of  a  sudden, 
perhaps  because  the  level  rays  of  the  rising  moon  now  shot  into  the  great  bay 
window,  the  wandering  notes  changed  to  a  well-known  strain,  and  a  fine  tenor 
voice  rolled  out  the  notes  of  "  Casta  Diva;"  while,  combining  with  the  severe 
purity  of  the  melody,  the  managed  instrument  rendered  such  complicated  orches- 
tral effects  that  one  could  hardly  believe  one  pair  of  human  hands  the  only 
media  between  human  ears  and  the  world  of  harmonious  melody  suddenly 
opened  to  them. 

The  aria  ended,  the  organist  fell  again  into  his  dreamy  fantasia,  and  now  the 
great  organ  wailed  and  sobbed  as  if  the  banished  peri  breathed  forth  her  long- 
ing and  her  sorrow  through  it ;  and  tears,  not  to  be  withheld  or  explained,  sprang 
to  the  eyes  of  the  listener.  A  quick  transition,  a  handful  of  minor  chords,  deep 
discords  resolving  into  strong,  hard  tones,  and  a  storm  of  passion,  an  infernal 
rebellion,  a  contest  of  demons,  was  hurled  out  to  the  summer  night,  and  swelled 
wilder  and  louder,  faster  and  fiercer,  until  Claudia  rose  to  her  feet,  her  cheeks 
flushed,  her  eyes  wide  and  bright  with  emotion,  her  lips  arched  and  quivering. 

Neria  had  sunk  upon  her  knees,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  and  her  slen- 
der form  shaken  with  irrepressible  sobs. 

"  I  must  see  this  man — now,  at  once,"  said  Claudia,  imperiously.  "  Neria, 
come  with  me." 

But  Neria  did  not  move  or  speak,  and  Claudia,  the  impetuous,  hastily  climbed 
the  tortuous  path  leading  to  the  brow  of  the  cliff,  and  a  moment  after  knocked 
at  the  same  door  that,  twelve  years  before,  had  been  opened  by  Lazarus  Graves 
to  admit  the  new  master  of  Cragness  to  his  lonely  home.  It  was  now  opened 
by  a  gaunt,  middle-aged  woman,  who  eyed  the  visitor  with  surprise  and  distrust. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  Mr.  Gillies,"  said  the  young  lady,  briefly. 


42  CIPHER. 

"Do?  Well,  I'll  tell  him,  but  I  don't  know  as  hell  come,"  replied  Nancy 
Brume,  curtly. 

"No  ;  I  will  go  to  him  ;  he  is  playing  on  the  organ,  and  I  wish  to  hear  him." 

"  Hear  him  !  You  don't  expect  he's  going  to  play  with  you  a  setting  bv,  do 
ye  ?  Why,  if  he  could  help  it,  he  wouldn't  let  the  rats  and  mice  in  the  old  walls 
hear  him.  I  dursn't  do  it,"  said  Nancy,  with  a  tone  of  awe  in  her  voice,  en- 
grafted there  by  her  twelve  years'  residence  under  Mr.  Gillies's  roof. 

"  Nonsense  ;  show  me  the  way  directly,"  retorted  Claudia,  imperiously.  "  I 
will  explain  everything  myself." 

Without  further  remonstrance,  Nancy  turned  and  led  the  way  up  the  long 
passage,  muttering. 

"  Have  your  own  way  and  live  the  longer  ;  but  Hain't  the  way  gals  acted  when 
I 'was  young." 

Arrived  at  the  door  of  the  gallery  dividing  the  library  from  the  house,  she 
paused  and,  with  the  curt  direction,  "  Straight  ahead,"  waited  until  Claudia  had 
entered,  and  then,  closing  the  door  upon  her,  went  back  to  her  own  domain. 

The  young  girl  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then,  with  heightened  color,  passed 
on,  and,  softly  turning  the  latch  of  the  library  door,  entered  and  stood  within 
the  gloomy  chamber. 

The  musician  turned  at  the  sound  of  the  opening  door  and  sat  looking  in 
mute  wonder  at  the  brilliant  apparition  so  suddenly  vouchsafed  him.  And  in- 
deed Claudia  had  never  looked  so  beautiful  as  now,  when  a  touch  of  maiden 
shame  softened  the  lustre  of  her  eyes,  trembled  on  her  proud  lips,  and  bowed 
her  regal  head.  So,  as  she  stood,  her  white  draperies  and  glowing  beauty 
thrown  forward  from  the  dusky  shadows  crowding  up  behind  her,  a  tremulous 
half-motion  vibrating  through  her  slender  figure,  her  whole  presence  instinct 
with  youth's  beautiful  enthusiasm,  she  might  have  been  the  spirit  of  music 
evoked  and  embodied  by  the  artist's  longing  soul  and  magic  touch. 

John  Gillies  gazed  speechless,  and  his  very  consternation  restored  to  his 
guest  the  advantage  she  had  for  a  moment  lost.  She  laughed  a  little  rippling 
laugh,  and  advanced  to  the  centre  of  the  room. 

"Indeed,  I  could  not  help  it,  Mr.  Gillies,"  began  she;  "and  if  you  often 
make  such  music  here  by  the  sea  as  has  drawn  me  hither,  you  must  be  too  well 
accustomed  to  visits  from  mermaids  and  nixies,  or  whatever  spirits  haunt  these 
old  grey  rocks,  to  wonder  that  a  mere  mortal  was  unable  to  resist  the  spell.  My 
name  is  Claudia  Murray,  and  I  am  niece  to  Mr.  Vaughn,  of  Bonniemeer.  I  love 
music  better  than  I  do  life,  and  I  never  heard  such  music  as  has  floated  from 
this  window  in  the  last  half  hour.  Now  please  sit  down  again  and  play  to  me." 

She  threw  herself  as  she  spoke  into  a  great  arm  chair  beside  the  fire-place, 
and 

turned  her  sumptuous  head,  with  eyes 

Of  shining  expectation  fixed 

on  the  musician. 

In  silent  obedience,  he  seated  himself  before  the  organ  ;  but  now  the  tones 
were  feeble  and  confused,  expressing  as  faithfully  as  before  the  emotions  of  the 
musician's  soul,  and  therefore  painful  and  unsatisfying.  He  ceased  suddenly, 
and,  rising,  closed  and  locked  the  doors  of  the  instrument. 

"  I  cannot  play  to  listeners,"  said  he,  half  in  humility,  half  in  anger,  as  he 
came  and  stood  before  his  guest. 

Claudia  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"But  you  must  learn,"  said  she,  "for  I  am  always  coming  to  listen  to  you. 


CIPHER.  43 

If  I  may  not  come  here,  I  will  sit  outside  upon  the  cold  rocks  beside  the  sea ; 
but  listen  I  must." 

Gillies  stood  and  looked  at  her  with  the  same  terrible  wistfulness  that  we 
have  all  seen  in  the  eyes  of  some  dumb  creature  struggling  for  the  utterance 
which  nature  has  denied  him.  To  borrow  the  distinction  of  a  subtle  psycholo- 
gist, the  John  Gillies  as  his  Maker  knew  him  experienced  emotions  which  John 
Gillies  as  men  knew  him  could  not  express,  and  which  John  Gillies  as  he  knew 
himself  could  only  half  define.  So  he  looked  at  Claudia  and  opened  his  lips, 
but  no  words  came. 

Again  the  woman  drew  assurance  from  his  discomfiture. 

"  You  won't  forbid  my  coming  to  hear  you  sometimes  ?  "  asked  she,  with  a 
bewildering  smile. 

"  If  I  know  you  are  here,  I  can  never  play,"  said  Gillies,  hesitatingly. 

"  But  you  might — O,  Mr.  Gillies,  if  only  you  would  !  "  and  the  listless  figure 
sprang  upright  and  stood,  with  clasped  hands,  looking  up  into  his  face. 

"If  I  would — "  repeated  he,  perplexed. 

"  If  only  you  would  try  to  teach  me  a  little." 

"  I  teach  you  !  "  and  John  Gillies  turned  pale  and  trembled  visibly. 

"  Yes.  I  can  play  on  the  piano  pretty  well,  I  believe,  and  I  know  about  mu- 
sic— the  mechanism,  you  know — but  O,  I  never  dreamed  it  had  a  soul  till  I  heard 
you  just  now." 

The  shadows  lifted  from  the  musician's  face,  as  his  mind  reverted  to  his  own 
most  usual  subject  of  thought.  He  forgot  the  strange  and  beautiful  vision  be- 
fore him,  in  contemplation  of  a  beauty  fairer,  higher,  sweeter  than  anything  of 
earth.  The  passion  of  his  life  swept  away  the  admiration  of  a  moment. 

"  It  is  only  when  we  learn  that  music  has  a  soul  that  we  can  interpret  it  to 
the  soul  of  another,"  said  he,  serenely. 

"  But  how  learn  it  ?  "  asked  Claudia,  passionately.  "  I  have  all  my  life  studied 
music,  but  never  felt  it  until  to-night." 

"  Probably  you  have  all  your  life  studied  an  instrument  and  the  technicali- 
ties of  science.  If  you  had  studied  music  as  an  art,  you  would  have  found  her 
soul  long  ago,"  said  the  musician. 

"  Yes,  that  is  it.  I  have  studied  the  piano,  I  have  never  studied  music ;  I 
have  never  found  any  one  to  teach  me  this  art.  O,  sir,  will  you  ? " 

Dark  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  curved  lips  tremulous  with  feeling,  clasped 
hands,  and  a  face  pale  with  genuine  emotion.  Powerful  agents,  these,  to  work 
upon  the  will  of  a  man  ;  but  the  eyes  of  the  artist  fell  upon  them  now  as  calmly 
as  upon  his  own  reflection  in  the  mirror. 

"  I  will  try,"  said  he,  briefly  "  But  if  I  find  that  you  are  incapable  of  re- 
ceiving the  ideas  I  shall  try  to  communicate,  I  shall  stop.  No  man  can  do  more 
for  another  than  to  show  him  the  path.  Each  must  tread  it  for  himself." 

"I  understand,"  said  Claudia,  humbly;  "and,  though  I  may  be  stupid  and 
unappreciative,  at  least  you  shall  not  find  me  ungrateful." 

If  she  hoped  to  extort  words  of  flattery  from  those  dry  lips,  the  wily  co- 
quette was  disappointed  ;  for  Mr.  Gillies  did  not  even  glance  at  her  as  he  said, 

"I  will  try.  Your  may  come  here  to-morrow  at  four  o'clock.  But  do  not 
expect  too  much." 

"  I  will  come,  and  I  do  expect  a  great  deal,"  said  Claudia,  joyfully,  and,  with 
a  graceful  gesture  of  farewell,  took  her  leave. 

END  OF  PART  I. 


CIPHER: 

A  NOVEL. — PART  SECOND. 

CHAPTER   I. 

A   SUMMER   NIGHT. 

EIGHT  more  years  had  etched  their  almost  imperceptible  wrinkle  upon 
earth's  furrowed  brow,  and  the  moon  of  a  summer's  night  dreamed 
softly  upon  sea  and  shore,  upon  the  grey  and  grim  old  walls  of  Cragness,  within 
whose  shade  John  Gillies  and  the  Secret  still  watchfully  confronted  each  other 
upon  the  still  fair  waters  of  Bonniemeer,  the  lakelet  that  gave  its  name  to  the 
•'state,  and  upon  a  pretty  pleasure-boat  drifting  across  its  placid  waters. 

The  occupants  of  this  boat  were  Neria  and  Francia  Vaughn,  Claudia  Liv- 
ingstone, a  bride  in  her  honeymoon,  and  her  brother  Fergus  Murray,  a  young 
man  whose  five-and-twenty  years  had  done  for  him  the  work  that  fifty  fail  to  ac- 
complish for  many  men. 

Let  him  who  would  read  faces  aright  watch  them  when  exorcised  to  truth 
by  the  magic  of  such  a  night ;  and  when  we  remember  that  madness  is  but  un- 
disguised sincerity,  and  that  a  lunatic  is  but  too  fervent  a  lover  of  that  fair  moon 
who  first  entices  men  to  sleep  beneath  her  kisses  and  then  stabs  them  to  the 
brain  while  they  dream  of  her,  we  see  at  once  that  to  submit  to  her  influence,  to 
meet  her  smile,  is  to  voluntarily  enter  upon  the  first  stage  of  madness  by  allow- 
ing the  deepest  emotions  of  the  heart  to  become  patent  upon  that  bulletin-board, 
the  face. 

Watch  we  then  by  moonlight,  these,  the  principal  characters  of  our  story, 
as  each  slips  idly  through  his  fingers  the  white  and  grey  thread  that  Arachne 
twists  as  pitilessly  in  the  moonlight  as  in  the  dark,  while  we  smile  as  we  weep, 
while  we  trust  in  her,  as  after  we  have  learned  to  sneer. 

Claudia,  tall,  elegant,  and  Circean  in  her  beauty,  reclined  in  the  stern  of  the 
boat,  gazing  now  at  her  own  reflection  in  the  water,  now  at  the  diamonds  upon 
her  white  fingers. 

At  her  feet  sat  Neria,  her  hands  clasped  upon  her  lap,  her  eyes  upraised  in 


CIPHER.  45 

absorbing  reverie,  her  pure  profile  clear  cut  against  the  background  of  dark 
woodland,  her  attitude  as  graceful  as  it  was  unconscious. 

In  the  bows,  Francia,  smiling  to  herself,  wove  with  nimble  fingers  a  wreath 
of  dripping  water-lilies,  glancing  as  she  wrought  at  the  handsome  head  of  her 
Cousin  Fergus,  who,  with  his  back  to  her,  found  amusement  now  in  lightly  dip- 
ping the  oar  that  he  held,  so  as  to  shatter  the  image  Claudia  watched  with  so 
much  satisfaction,  and  now,  in  gazing  at  Neria's  wonderful  loveliness. 

The  wreath  was  done,  and  Francia  lightly  placed  it  upon  the  head  of  the  un- 
conscious oarsman,  who  started  slightly,  and  then  catching  the  hands  still  busy 
about  his  temples,  drew  them  to  his  lips,  and  lightly  kissing  them,  said, 

"  That  is  too  much  honor,  little  cousin,  and  besides  the  decoration  is  not  ap- 
propriate. Give  it  to  Neria,  who  in  the  moonlight  looks  like  the  spirit  of  the 
lake,  or,"  and  releasing  the  hands,  the  young  man  turned  toward  his  cousin  and 
lowered  his  voice.  "  If  we  want  a  veritable  Undine,  I  know  where  to  find 
her." 

"  Undine  before  she  found  her  soul  ? "  asked  Francia,  archly. 

"  Before  she  was  married,  yes,"  replied  Fergus. 

"  The  idea  that  a  woman  must  necessarily  be  improved  by  being  married.  I 
don't  believe  it — there's  Claudia  now."  , 

"  I  believe  we  won't  discuss  Claudia's  affairs.  I  don't  approve  of  meddling 
with  what  don't  concern  me,"  said  Fergus,  with  a  shade  of  severity  in  his  voice. 
Francia  drew  a  little  back,  and  silently  averted  her  face,  while  a  rich,  lazy  voice 
asked,  from  the  stern  of  the  boat : 

"  What's  that  about  Claudia  ? " 

"  Claudia  has  admired  herself  sufficiently  for  once,"  replied  Fergus,  resum- 
ing his  seat  and  his  oars,  and  must  now  go  to  relieve  the  anxieties  of  her  friends 
on  shore." 

"Whether  she  will  or  no?"  asked  Claudia,  half  rebelliously.  Her  brother 
made  no  reply,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  keel  of  the  little  boat  grated  upon  the 
white  sand  of  the  beach.  At  the  sound,  three  gentlemen  rose  from  a  bench, 
where  they  had  been  sitting,  and  came  down  to  meet  the  voyagers. 

In  the  first,  a  fine-looking  man,  bearing  his  forty  years  as  Time's  seal  of  per- 
fected manhood,  we  recognize  Frederic  Vaughn,  the  master  of  Bonniemeer. 

The  shorter,  stouter,  more  florid  man  beside  him,  is  John  Livingstone,  the 
bridegroom  of  Claudia  Murray,  and  the  tall,  thin,  grey-haired,  and  grey-faced 
gentleman  behind  them  is  her  father,  the  widowed  brother-in-law  of  Vaughn. 

Without  waiting  for  the  hand  her  father  stepped  forward  to  offer,  Francia 
sprang  lightly  to  the  shore,  and  passed  hastily  up  the  path  leading  through  the 
wood  to  the  house.  Fergus,  stepping  more  deliberately  from  the  boat,  drew  it 
up  on  the  beach,  and  after  carefully  handing  Neria  out,  impatiently  called  : 

"  Come,  Claudia,  we  are  waiting  for  you  !  " 

But  Claudia  lingered,  adjusting  her  draperies  ;  and  when,  at  lastj  she  stepped 
upon  the  gunwale,  placing  her  hand  in  that  of  Fergus,  he  seized  it  so  hastily  that 
Claudia  stumbled,  tangled  her  feet  in  her  long  dress,  and  was  only  saved  from 
falling  by  the  destruction  of  the  gauzy  fabric. 

"  Take  care  !,  Did  you  tear  your  dress  ?  It  is  not  a  fit  one  for  a  boating 
party,"  said  Fergus,  hurriedly  passing  the  boat-chain  over  the  post  set  for  it,  and 
hastening  after  Neria,  already  disappearing  in  the  sombre  woodland  path. 

"  There,  Mrs.  L,  that's  fifty  dollars  gone,  I  suppose,"  remarked  Mr.  Living- 
stone, as  Claudia  ruefully  gathered  up  her  ruined  dress. 


46  CIPHER. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  call  me  Mrs.  L.,"  retorted  the  lady,  pettishly.  "  You 
know  that  I  detest  it." 

"  Don't  get  mad,  young  woman.  It  wasn't  me  tore  your  dress,  and  I  guess 
it  won't  break  Livingstone  Brothers  to  furnish  the  funds  for  a  new  one,"  said 
the  husband,  good-humoredly,  as  he  tucked  his  wife's  arm  under  his  own,  and  led 
her  up  the  path. 

Mr.  Vaughn  and  his  brother-in-law  slowly  followed. 

"  Livingstone  makes  Claudia  a  very  good  husband,"  said  the  latter,  compla- 
cently. 

"  He  seems  very  good-natured,"  assented  Vaughn,  with  reserve. 

"  Yes,  and  that  is  a  great  deal.  Then  he  is  perfectly  willing  to  leave  her  to 
her  own  pursuits  and  companions,  and  has  both  means  and  inclination  to  in- 
dulge all  the  costly  whims  which  nearly  ruined  me  while  I  had  the  honor  of  sup- 
plying her  purse." 

Mr.  Vaughn  slightly  smiled,  but  said  nothing ;  and,  after  a  little  pause,  his 
companion  added,  positively : 

"  A  very  good  husband,  and  a  very  good  match." 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  so  well  pleased,"  said  Vaughn,  finding  an  answer  impera- 
tive. 

"  Humph  !  Your  aristocratic  prejudices  won't  allow  you  to  be  reasonable, 
Vaughn.  You  don't  like  my  son-in-law  because  he's  in  trade,  and  because  his 
father  had  no  idea  of  a  grandfather  or  a  coat-of-arms.  But,  as  for  the  last,  I 
assure  you,  Livingstone  has  imported  the  very  finest  one  in  the  Heralds'  College, 
and  Claudia  has  got  it  engraved  on  everything  in  the  house." 

"Your  satire  is  more  honest  than  your  praise,  Murray.  You  are  more  of  a 
conservative  at  heart  than  I,"  said  Mr.  Vaughn. 

Murray  slightly  smiled. 

"  My  practice  is  for  myself— my  theories  for  others,"  said  he.  "  I  have  a 
theory  that  Mr.  John  Livingstone  is  an  admirable  husband ;  but  in  practice  I 
see  him  as  little  as  possible." 

"  But  Claudia  is  your  daughter,  and  may  be  supposed  to  have  the  same  tastes 
and  prejudices  as  her  father,"  pursued  Vaughn. 

Mr.  Murray's  sarcastic  smile  deepened. 

"  Claudia,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  is  a  young  woman  of  uncommon  good  sense. 
She  considered  this  matter  well,  and  decided  for  herself,  and,  as  I  think,  wisely. 
There  was  a  young  man,  good-looking,  well-mannered,  romantic,  and  all  that, 
whom  she  preferred,  no  doubt ;  but  he  was  just  out  of  the  medical  school,  and 
was  beginning  on  the  thankless  course  of  gratuitous  practice  incumbent  at 
this  day  upon  a  young  physician.  In  ten  years  he  may  be  able  to  marry  and 
live  in  a  small  way ;  but  he  never  will  be  able  to  provide  the  sum  Claudia  ex- 
pends each  year  for  pin-money.  Mr.  Livingstone  and  he  offered  themselves  on 
the  same  day.  The  girl  dutifully  came  to  me  and  asked  advice." 

"  And  you  counselled  her  to  accept  the  richer  ? "  asked  Vaughn. 

"  I  said  to  her,  '  My  dear,  look  past  the  next  five  years  into  the  forty  or  fifty 
which  I  hope  await  you  beyond,  and  consider  whether  you  will  roll  over  them  in 
a  barouche,  or  plod  through  on  foot,  dragging  a  baby-cart  after  yqu.'  She  looked 
me  in  the  eye  a  minute,  turned  as  pale  as  a  ghost,  and  quietly  laid  Dr.  LutrelPs 
letter  on  the  fire.  That  was  all." 

Vaughn's  lip  curled,  but  he  made  no  reply ;  and  the  two  men  walked  on 


CIPHER.  47 

through  the  rustling  wood,  where  the  moonlight  quivered  down,  to  make  a 
diamond  of  every  swinging  dewdrop,  and  to  light  the  rendezvous  of  amorous  fays. 

Vaughn  stopped  and  looked  about  him.  Twenty  years  before,  he  would  have 
said: 

"  Can  worldliness  assert  itself  in  such  a  scene  as  this  ?  "  But  at  forty  one 
has  learned,  if  ever,  that  "  speech  is  silvern  and  silence  is  golden." 

Mr.  Murray  cast  a  vacant  eye  upon  the  moony  sky,  the  dreaming  earth,  the 
swinging  blossoms,  and  whispering  trees,  and  then  said  : 

"  You  like  this  sort  of  thing,  Vaughn  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  a  wife  and  settle  down,  then  ?  You  havn't  spent  a 
month  here  since  Gabrielle  died  ;  have  you  ?  " 

"  Only  the  summer  we  all  spent  here  five  years  ago,"  said  Mr.  Vaughn, 
quietly. 

"  O,  yes  ;  the  last  summer  of  Mrs.  Murray's  life — poor  Catherine." 

Again,  silently,  Mr.  Vaughn  considered  whether  the  ruthful  epithet  was  best 
applied  to  Mrs.  Murray  dead  or  Mrs.  Murray  living ;  and  the  unconscious  wid- 
ower resumed : 

"  But  why  don't  you  marry  again,  Vaughn." 

"  I  have  no  inclination  at  present,"  returned  his  companion,  coldly. 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  you  will  do  it  yet,  and,  unless  you  look  out  for  yourself, 
you  will  be  drawn  into  a  very  foolish  thing.  It  is  not  my  affair,  and  I  know  so 
well  the  reward  of  friendly  interference  that  I  would  not  have  risked  speaking 
except  frdrn  the  very  highest  regard  for  your  welfare." 

"  I  am  extremely  grateful,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  Vaughn,  in  good-humored 
astonishment,  "but  I  haven't  an  idea  what  you're  driving  at." 

"  Of  course,  you'll  laugh,  and,  possibly,  will  be  offended  ;  but,  once  for  all,  I 
tell  you  that  little  ward  of  yours,  Neria,  is  falling  in  love  with  you,"  said  Mr. 
Murray,  in  a  matter-of-fact  voice.  Vaughn  stopped  and  stared  at  him. 

"  Neria  in  love  with  me  ! "  exclaimed  he. 

"Falling  in  love,  I  said,"  returned  Murray.  "It  is  only  a  few  weeks  that 
you  have  been  at  home,  you  know ;  and  since  she  saw  you  last  she  has  grown 
from  a  girl  to  a  woman,  and  is,  womanlike,  all  ready  to  fall  prostrate  at  the  feet 
of  the  first  idol  that  chance  sets  before  her.  She  is  fascinated  by  your  appear- 
ance and  manners,  and  the  savoir  faire  resulting  from  your  wide  travels  appears 
to  her  the  wisdom  of  a  God.  She  is  devoting  herself  now  to  the  building  of  an 
altar  for  this  god  ;  and,  presently,  when  the  incense  begins  to  rise,  you  may  find 
it  more  intoxicating  than  you  imagine." 

Vaughn  walked  thoughtfully  on  for  some  moments,  and  then  said, 

"The  caution  is  kindly  meant,  Murray,  and,  I  assure  you,  kindly  taken  ;  but 
I  don't  think  you  quite  know  me,  and  neither  of  us  knows  more  of  Neria  than 
her  exquisite  beauty.  Perhaps,  then,  we  had  better  not  try  to  look  into  the 
sacred  mysteries  of  a  virgin  heart,  or  discuss,  as  probabilities,  ideas  which  seem 
to  me  the  wildest  of  chimeras." 

Mr.  Murray  stoically  accepted  the  delicate  rebuke,  and  said, 

"  O,  very  well.  I  only  wished  to  open  your  eyes  ;  and  now  have  no  more  to 
say,  except  to  rather  demur  at  your  phrase,  '  exquisite  beauty.'  To  my  mind 
either  Francia  or  Claudia  is  far  handsomer  than  Neria.  She  is  too.  cold  and 
lifeless,  has  too  little  color  and  curve  for  my  taste.  She  always  reminds  me  of 
the  winter  sea  that  washed  her  up." 


48  CIPHER. 

"You  have  not  seen  her  as  I  have,"  said  Vaughn,  quietly ;  "and  perhaps 
never  could.  And  to  compare  her  with  Claudia  and  Francia,  or  them  with  each 
other,  is  unjust  to  all  three,  for  while  each  is  an  almost  perfect  type  of  a  special 
form  of  beauty,  the  three  forms  are  as  wide  apart  as  the  sea  and  the  sun.  I  saw 
women  like  Claudia  in  Spain,  in  Italy,  in  the  Ionian  Isles ;  I  have  found 
Francias  in  England,  in  Germany,  and  here  at  home,  but  there  are  no  more 
Nerias." 

He  smiled  dreamily  as  he  spoke,  and  Mr.  Murray  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  should  think  in  Norway,  Sweden,  Russia,  anywhere  near  the  North  Pole, 
you  might  find  plenty  of  them,"  said  he,  slightingly. 

"  Plenty  of  complexions  as  pure,  and  once  in  a  year,  perhaps,  features  as 
delicately  moulded,  a  form  as  exquisitely  proportioned — but  the  peculiarity  of 
this  girl's  beauty  is  one  that  I  have  never  before  encountered.  She  is  trans- 
parent. The  body  is  beautiful  enough,  although  men  like  you  might  call  it  cold 
and  inanimate,  but  the  real  beauty  is  within,  and  only  once  in  a  while  takes  pos- 
session of  the  body  and  transfigures  it,  absolutely  changes  it  to  another." 

Mr.  Murray  shook  his  head. 

"  Just  as  romantic  as  ever,"  said  he,  compassionately.  "  More  of  a  boy  than 
my  Fergus  ever  was.  Now,  I  suppose  in  common  every-day  parlance,  you  mean 
by  this  transfiguration  and  '  possession '  that  Neria  has  a  very  expressive  face. 
Well—" 

"  No,  that  is  not  what  I  mean,"  interposed  Vaughn.  "  I  mean  that  under 
strong  emotion  or  deep  interest,  she  becomes  another  person.  Her  eyes,  which 
ordinarily  are  a  clear,  light  grey,  deepen  to  the  color  of  the  sea  beneath ?a  thunder 
sky  ;  her  lips  glow  with  a  vivid  scarlet,  and  ripen  to  an  exquisite  fulness  ;  her 
cheeks  bloom  with  the  rare  tint  that  Titian  strove  all  his  life  to  embody  in  color  ; 
her  very  hair  deepens  from  its  pale  gold  to  an  aureola  of  glory ;  her  slender 
figure  dilates  and  rounds  itself  to  the  perfection  of  womanhood.  It  is  marvel- 
lous— absolutely  marvellous,  and  no  one  who  has  never  witnessed  this  change 
should  speak  of  Neria's  beauty,  for  it  is  a  thing  he  cannot  understand." 

Mr.  Murray  plunged  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  looked  askance  at  his 
brother-in-law. 

"  I  had  better  have  held  my  tongue,"  said  he.  "  I  had  no  idea  you  were  in 
this  condition,  or  that  you  had  turned  your  forty  years  to  so  little  account." 

Vaughn  slightly  frowned,  then  smiled. 

"It  is  I  who  should  have  held  my  tongue,"  said  he.  "You  and  I  never 
looked  out  of  the  same  eyes,  Murray,  and  you  do  not  see  that  I  am  admiring 
this  lovely  ward  of  mine  just  as  I  admired  the  Madonnas  of  the  Sistine,  the 
Psyche  of  Florence.  She  is  to  me  another  embodiment  of  beauty,  that  is  all — 
another  reason  to  praise  God,  who  gave  me  eyes  and  brain  to  admire  His  works." 

"  And  that  is  all  ?  "  asked  Murray,  incredulously. 

"  That  is  all,"  assented  Vaughn,  with  a  grave  and  steadfast  look  into  the  fur- 
tive eyes  of  his  companion. 

"  Wait  awhile,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  dryly,  and  they  ascended  the  broad  steps 
to  the  terrace,  where  Claudia  sang  passionate  love-songs  to  her  guitar,  while  her 
husband,  with  a  handkerchief  over  his  head,  sat  upon  the  sill  of  the  drawing- 
room  window,  and  Francia  wandered  restlessly  up  and  down,  looking  every 
moment  toward  the  garden  where  Neria's  white  dress  floated  through  the  long 
alleys  with  a  dark  shadow  at  its  side. 

Light  and  shadow  presently  came  toward  the  house,  and  Francia,  who  had 


CIPHER.  49 

been  for  some  moments  immovable  at  the  end  of  the  terrace  nearest  to  the  gar- 
den, hurried  to  the  other  end,  and  seated  herself  upon  the  shaded  steps,  with  a 
cruel  little  pang  at  the  thought  that  she  should  not  be  missed.  Without  turning 
her  head,  she  heard  the  merry  talk  that  sprang  up  at  the  farther  end  of  the  ter- 
race, heard  some  one  ask  for  herself,  and  Claudia's  careless  answer  that  she  had 
gone  into  the  house,  perhaps  to  rest.  Then  she  heard  a  firm  quick  tread  along 
the  marble  walk,  and  drew  still  further  into  the  shadow  as  Fergus  approached, 
paused,  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Francia  ?"  asked  he,  with  a  little  impatience  and  a 
good  deal  of  tenderness  mingling  in  his  voice. 

•'  Nothing's  the  matter,"  said  Francia,  pettishly. 

"  Yes,  but  a  good  deal's  the  matter  when  you  speak  in  that  way,  little  girl,' 
retorted  her  cousin,  taking  in  his  own  one  of  the  listless  hands  that  only  half- 
tried  to  evade  the  capture. 

"  Now  tell  me,  Franc,  what  is  it  ?  " 

Half  yielding  to  the  tender  and  imperious  tone  of  this  demand,  Francia 
spoke,  but,  womanly,  left  the  most  unsaid. 

"  You  were  so  cross  in  the  boat !  " 

Fergus  laughed  aloud. 

Now,  Franc,  aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself  ?  Very  likely  I  spoke  too 
sharply,  but  was  that  a  thing  worth  pouting  over  for  hours  ?  What  I  meant  was 
that  you  and  I  have  no  right  to  judge,  or  even  discuss  other  people's  affairs. 
You  were  beginning  a  remark  about  Claudia's  marriage,  you  know,  and  I 
thought  it  was  something  of  which  you  should  not  talk.  I  could  not  explain 
then,  but  you  ought  to  have  understood." 

Francia  looked  up  with  a  smile  in  her  blue  eyes. 

"You  are  so  fastidiously  honorable,"  said  she. 

"  And  you  are  such  a  little  goose,"  retorted  her  cousin,  meeting  the  smile 
half  way. 

"  Come,  Franc,  we  are  going  in,"  called  Claudia  from  the  window,  and  with 
a  little  reluctant  sigh,  the  girl  obeyed  the  summons,  slowly  followed  by  Fergus, 
who,  instead  of  entering  the  house,  sought  again  the  garden  paths  and  wandered 
there  until  "  Orion,  low  down  in  his  grave,"  showed  that  the  night  had  changed 
to  morninjr. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SIEUR. 

HOLD  to  Genesis  if  we  may,  to  Hugh  Miller  if  we  must,  for  the  story  of  the 
creation  ;  but  who  that  has  seen  a  summer  morning  upon  the  sea-shore  can 
doubt  that  there  was  once  an  Eden  whose  echoes  yet  haunt  the  earth  ?  The 
hush,  the  dreamy  melancholy,  the  mystery  of  night,  is  gone,  the  soul  no  longer 
sighs  to  escape  from  earth  and  float  unfettered  into  space  ;  but  rather  it  incorpo- 
rates itself  more  closely  in  the  body,  giving  to  a  man  almost  the  afflatus  of  a 
God,  saying  to  him,  Up  and  be  doing,  for  what  limit  is  there  to  our  capacity  ? 
And  one  no  longer  treads  the  common  earth  with  weary  feet,  but  feels  himself 
upborne  upon  invisible  wings  above  the  garden  where  angels  walked  with  men 
and  infused  new  strength  into  their  souls  with  every  word. 

Such  a  morning  dawned  upon  Bonniemeer,  and  Neria,  alone  upon  the  terrace, 


50  CIPHER. 

stood  looking  over  sea  and  earth,  and  dreaming  the  pure,  bright  dreams  that 
such  scenes  should  stir  in  a  young  and  virgin  heart. 

Not  dreaming,  but  humming  a  blithe  hunting  song  that  suited  well  his  active 
and  virile  mien,  came  Fergus,  striding  rapidly  up  the  avenue,  until  catching  sight 
of  Neria,  he  stopped,  half  in  admiration  of  her  attitude  and  the  glorified  beauty 
of  her  eager  face,  half  shame-faced  in  remembering  his  disordered  appearance 
and  the  dripping  towel  in  his  hand. 

At  the  same  moment  Vaughn,  appearing  in  the  doorway,  paused  to  look  at 
the  two,  and  especially  at  Fergus,  trying  to  see  him  with  a  young  girl's  eyes.  "A 
handsome  fellow,"  thought  he,  with  a  strange  reluctance  in  making  the  admission, 
"and  with  a  certain  air  of  pride  and  resolution  that  should  have  its  weight.  Not 
highly  intellectual,  perhaps,  certainly  not  fanciful  or  romantic,  although  not  free 
from  the  sentimentality  of  youth.  Bearing  the  impress  upon  his  face  of  a  clear 
and  well-trained  mind,  of  high  principle  and  fastidious  honor,  of  elegant  tastes 
and  habits — a  man  whom  a  girl  must  admire,  might  easily  love,  should  he  love 
her,"  concluded  Vaughn,  just  as  his  nephew  sprang  up  the  steps,  giving  him  a  gay 
good-morning,  and  he  replied,  a  little  coldly, 

"  Good-morning,  Fergus.     You  have  the  advantage  of  us  in  your  early  walk." 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  also  in  my  dip  into  the  surf.  A  splendid  morning  for  a 
bath." 

And  the  young  man  passed  on,  with  one  sidelong,  wistful  glance  at  Neria, 
who  smiled  a  greeting,  but  did  not  speak.  At  the  same  moment  Vaughn  ap- 
proached and  greeted  her. 

"  Good-morning,  sir,"  said  she,  half  shyly  extending  her  hand. 

Vaughn  took  it  and  held  it  for  an  instant,  examining  the  slender,  rose-tipped 
fingers. 

"  And  what  a  morning  !  "  continued  Neria,  turning  to  meet  a  little  wave  of 
fresher  air,  one  of  Ocean's  ponderous  love-sighs  that  just  then  grazed  her  cheek. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Vaughn,  absently,  and  then  asked, 

"  Of  what  were  you  thinking,  Neria,  just  before  Fergus  came  up  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you,  sir,"  replied  Neria,  quietly. 

"Of  me  !  "  echoed  Vaughn,  too  startled  even  to  be  flattered. 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  was  thinking  that  a  man  born  and  brought  up  in  face  of  such 
grandeur  and  beauty  as  this,  must  of  necessity  be  noble  and  pure,  and  wise  as — " 

"  No,  do  not  say  it,  child  ! "  cried  Vaughn,  in  terror.  "  Do  not  put  me  to 
shame  by  reminding  me  of  opportunities,  incentives,  aids  to  a  nobler  life,  that 
have  been  showered  so  freely  upon  me,  and  which  have  been  so  miserably,  mis- 
erably neglected." 

The  clear  eyes  looked  into  his  with  such  wonder,  almost  such  fright,  that  the 
pain  melted  from  his  brow  in  a  tender  smile  as  he  said, 

"  Do  not  look  so  much  shocked,  either.  I  did  not  mean  to  represent  myself 
as  an  ogre,  or  even  as  a  man  stained  with  some  dark  crime  ;  but  who  is,  then, 
worthy  to  live,  as  you  say,  in  the  presence  of  such  beauty  and  such  grandeur  as 
this  ?  What  man,  I  mean  ?  If  one  looks  among  women — " 

He  paused,  and  with  a  smile  half  playful,  half  in  earnest,  looked  deep  into 
the  transparent  eyes  still  raised  to  his. 

"  But,  Neria,  tell  me  something,"  added  he,  drawing  her  hand  through  his 
arm  and  walking  up  and  down  the  shady  terrace.  "  Why  have  you  given  me  no 
name  since  I  came  home  ?  It  is  three  weeks  now,  and  you  have  not  once  called 
me  anything  but  sir.  Five  years  ago,  you  said  papa,  as  Franc  does  npw." 


CIPHER.  5I 

Neria  looked  a  little  troubled,  and  then  suddenly  relieved. 

"I  am  glad  you  spoke  of  it,  sir,"  said  she,  "for  now  I  can  ask  you  what  I 
had  better  say.  I  do  not  like  to  say  papa  or  father,  because  you  know  you  are 
not  my  father,  and  it  is  claiming  a  right  and  a  place  which  do  not  belong  to  me." 

"  Do  not  belong  to  you,  dear  ? "  asked  Vaughn,  in  pained  surprise.  "  Have 
you  felt  any  want  of  affection  or  consideration  in  me,  or  in  any  one  ?  Has 
Francia  ever  shown  a  feeling  of  jealousy  or  assumed — " 

"  O  no  !  no  !  "  interrupted  Neria,  anxiously.  "  Pray  do  not  think  of  such  a 
thing.  Franc  does  not  know  I  have  thought  of  these  things.  She  has  forgot- 
ten, I  believe,  that  I  am  not  her  very  sister." 

"  And  how  came  you  to  know  it  ?  "  asked  Vaughn,  half  smiling  at  the  child- 
ish expression,  and  yet  with  an  ominous  frown  gathering Tn  his  dark  eyes. 

"It  was  long  ago,"  said  Neria,  dreamily,  "when  we  were  quite  little  girls, 
that  we  had  some  dispute,  Franc  and  I  ;  and  although  I  gave  up  to  her,  I  said 
she  had  no  right  to  try  to  force  me  to,  for  she  was  in  the  wrong,  and  was  really 
the  one  to  yield.  Then  Mrs.  Rhee,  who  was  by,  said  something  about  every- 
thing being  more  Franc's  than  mine  ;  and  when  we  asked  what  she  meant,  she 
said  I  was  an  orphan  whom  you  had  taken  in  out  of  pity,  and  though  it  was  no 
fault  of  mine,  it  should  make  me  humble  and  less  forward  to  speak  of  rights 
and  to  contend  with  Francia  about  trifles.  I  thought  about  it  a  good  deal,  and 
although  Mrs.  Rhee  never  would  say  any  more,  and  seemed  to  wish  it  were'  for- 
gotten, I  made  old  Chloe  tell  me,  little  by  little,  all  about  it." 

"  All  about  what  ? "  asked  Vaughn,  quietly. 

"  About  your  finding  me  on  the  sea-beach,  in  the  arms  of  my  poor  dead 
mother — " 

Neria  paused,  and  stood  for  a  moment  looking  out  toward  the  sea  with  a 
wistful  yearning  in  her  eyes,  as  if  the  memory  of  that  dead  mother  were  to  her 
forever  associated  with  that  other  mystery  beside  which  she  had  lain.  A  look 
so  fyll  of  inexpressible  longing  of  lonely  grief,  that  Vaughn,  gazing  down  upon 
it,  would  fain  have  clasped  her  to  his  heart  and  kissed  the  darkening  eyes  and 
quivering  lips  to  peace  and  trust ;  but  he  could  not  do  it,  as  he  should,  he  would 
not,  as  he  wished. 

"  I  always  thought  about  it  while  I  was  little,"  continued  Neria,  drearily  ; 
"and  sometimes  it  made  me  sad — made  me  feel  as,if  I  did  not  quite  belong  here, 
and  really  had  not  the  right  to  resist  if  Francia  did  not  agree  with  me.  But 
since  I  have  grown  up  it  seems  different.  I  feel  as  if  you  really  wished  I  should 
be  your  daughter,  and  did  all  you  could  for  me,  and  it  was  ungrateful  not  to 
keep  the  place  you  had  put  me  in.  Besides,  I  cannot — I  do  not  think  it  right 
for  any  one  to  give  up  what  they  know  to  be  true  and  just,  even  if  some  one  else 
has  rights  which  they  have  not.  I  could  not  tell  Francia  that  I  thought  as  she 
did,  if  I  did  not,  or  even  be  silent  when  she  or  any  one  said  what  I  did  not 
think  the  truth.  But  I  hope  I  am  not  ungrateful  or  quarrelsome,  and  indeed  I 
love  Franc  as  if  she  were  my  mother's  child,  and  you,  sir,  as  if  you  were  my 
father." 

No  cloud,  no  doubt,  dimmed  the  candid  eyes  which  Vaughn  questioned  with 
the  keen  interrogatory  of  a  man's  selfishness,  no  maiden  timidity  made  them 
droop  before  his  own.  He  slowly  withdrew  his  gaze,  half  pleased,  half  pained. 

"  But  still,"  pursued  Neria,  "  I  do  not  like  to  call  you  father,  because  you 
are  not  in  very  truth  my  father,  and  so  I  should  do  nothing  to  make  it  appear 
so." 


52  CIPHER. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Neria,  although,  as  I  have  always  considered  you  a 
child  of  my  own,  your  scruples  seem  to  me  excessive.  .But,  after  all,  it  is  as 
well  to  change  this  paternal  title  for  one  that  will  express  no  more  than  the  ex- 
act truth.  Will  you  call  me  guardian  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  if  you  like  it." 

"  But  not  '  sir ! '  little  ward  !        That  is  too  formal." 

"  Francia  says  '  sir,'  and  so  does  Fergus,"  suggested  Neria,  hesitatingly 
"  And  I  was  thinking  if  you  liked  it,  that  Sieur  is  the  very  name  I  would  like 
to  call  you  best,  as  if  you  knew  you  were  the  king  and  I  the  orphan  ward  for 
whom  you  cared." 

"  Ah,  you  do  not  leave  out  the  romance  when  you  read  history,"  said  Vaughn, 
smiling.  "  Well,  then,  call  me  Sieur  if  you  will,  and  the  name  so  resembles 
your  usual  address  that  no  one  will  notice  the  change,  and  so  our  little  secret 
shall  be  our  own." 

"  I  don't  like  secrets  very  much,"  said  Neria,  apprehensively. 

"  Child,  you  are  morbidly  sensitive  on  this  matter  of  candor.  It  is  right  and 
just  that  every  heart  should  keep  some  things  locked  safely  away  from  the  world. 
So  only  do  we  preserve  our  individuality,"  said  Vaughn,  gravely ;  and  his  ward 
answered  with  docility, 

"  Then  this  shall  be  a  secret." 

"•Come,  good  people,  come  to  breakfast,  we  are  all  waiting  for  you,"  called 
Claudia  from  the  window,  and  Neria  turned  to  her  so  winsome  a  face,  that  the 
young  matron  smiled  as  she  had  not  done  for  many  a  day. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A     CONFESSION. 

"  AND  now  what  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Livingstone,  as  the  party  rose  from  breakfast. 

"A  ride,"  said  Fergus,  decisively.  "Neria  and  Franc,  get  on  your  habits, 
and  I  will  order  the  horses  ;  Claudia,  I  suppose  you  don't  care  to  ride  ?" 

"  No,  it  tires  me  too  much.  I  am  going  to  drive,  by-and-by,  with  Mr.  Liv- 
ingstone," said  the  bride,  languidly. 

"  But  I  should  be  very  happy  to  ride,"  exclaimed  Francia,  with  a  brilliant 
smile. 

Fergus  silently  looked  at  Neria,  who  had  not  spoken. 

"  I  cannot  go  this  morning,"  said  she,  "  I  have  something  to  do." 

"  Pshaw  !  Put  by  your  something,  and  come.  There  is  not  such  a  day  once 
a  month,"  expostulated  Fergus,  in  a  low  voice. 

Neria  smiled,  but  shook  her  head. 

"  You  and  Franc  must  enjoy  it  enough  for  me  too." 

"  What  is  your  something  ?  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  Fergus, 
pettishly. 

"  O,  something." 

"  Something  you  won't  tell  me  ?  " 

"Not  just  now,"  said  Neria,  beginning  to  look  a  little  troubled. 

"You  will  spoil  my  ride — in  fact,  I  won't  go." 

"That  would  be  unkind  to  Francia,  who  wishes  to  go,"  said  Neria,  quietly. 

"  It  will  be  your  fault  if  she  is  disappointed." 


CIPHER.  53 

"  As  it  was  my  fault  that  the  squirrel  bit  me  ? "  asked  Neria,  smiling  mean- 
ingly. 

Fergus  colored  indignantly. 

"  I  did  not  think  it  was  in  you  to*be  so  ungenerous,  Neria,"  said  he,  rising 
and  walking  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  where  the  others  were  gathered  in  the 
breezy  bay  window. 

"  Shall  we  go,  Fergus  ? "  asked  Francia,  timidly  ;  for  she  had  learned  to  read 
her  cousin's  face,  and  now  saw  displeasure  and  disappointment  in  it. 

"Yes,  if  you  please,"  said  he,  coldly;  and,  as  Franc  moved  slowly  toward 
the  door,  he  stepped  out  of  the  window,  without  glancing  toward  Neria,  and 
went  to  order  the  horses. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Claudia,  lounging  in  a  great  Indian  chair,  saw  Neria 
coming  down  the  stairs  in  her  walking  dress,  and,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  ad- 
vanced to  join  her. 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  called  she,  "  I  will  go  a  little  way  with  you,  if  you  are  for 
a  walk." 

Neria  hesitated,  and  then  said : 

"  Come,  then,  a  little  way." 

"  How  far  are  you  going  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  as  we  walk  along." 

"  Charming  little  mystery  !  Where  is  my  veil  ?  O,  here  ;  tie  it  behind  for 
me,  please.  This  sea  air  is  so  trying  to  one's  complexion,  and  it's  quite  a  mis- 
take to  suppose  brunettes  don't  tan.  Goodness,  child,  you  are  never  going  to 
wear  that  little  hat  and  no  veil  ?  You  will  be  a  squaw  by  the  time  you  come 
home." 

"  I  never  tan  or  burn,  and  I  never  wear  a  veil,"  said  Neria,  quietly,  as  she 
put  the  little  hat,  with  its  drooping  white  plume,  upon  the  top  of  her  airily-fold- 
ed, shining  hair. 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  becoming,  I  admit,"  said  Claudia,  half  envious  ;  adding,  as 
she  glanced  at  Neria's  stainless  skin,  "and  such  a  complexion  as  yours  is  heav- 
en's last,  best  gift  to  man." 

"  Not  to  man,  exactly,"  retorted  Neria,  putting  aside,  as  ill-judged,  an  im- 
pulse to  suggest  to  her  companion  some  better  cause  for  thankfulness  to  heaven. 

"  And  now,  where  are  we  going  ?  "  asked  Claudia,  as  they  walked  under  the 
rustling  lindens  in  the  avenue,  amid  whose  golden  blossoms  innumerable  bees 
hummed  with  a  murmur  like  surf  breaking  on  the  distant  shore. 

"  I  will  tell  you  now.     You  remember  Mr.  Gillies  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  The  charming  old  hermit  who  infected  me  with  his  own  mu- 
sic-madness that  summer,  five  years  ago.  Do  he  and  his  old  tower  with  the 
glorious  organ  still  exist  ? " 

'•  Yes  ;  but,  Claudia,  I  think  he  never  has  been  just  the  same  since  that  he 
was  that  summer,"  said  Neria,  dubiously.  "When  I  used  to  go  with  you  to 
take  your  lessons,  you  know  how  animated  and  enthusiastic  he  was  about  mu- 
sic— how  dry  and  reserved  on  everything  else  ? " 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Claudia,  with  a  cunning  smile. 

"  Well,  after  you  went  away,  Francia  and  1  used  to  go  sometimes  and  listen 
from  the  beach  to  his  playing,  just  as  we  did  the  first  night ;  and  after  a  while 
he  found  us  out,  and  one  night  he  asked  us  in.  So  we  went,  and,  though  Franc 
thought  it  rather  fearful  to  sit  in  that  old  library  in  the  dark  and  listen  to  such 
solemn  music,  I  enjoyed  it ;  and,  when  he  asked  us  to  come  again,  we  got  leave 
from  Miss  Boardman,  and  used  to  go  often.  Sometimes  he  would  ask  a  few 


54  CIPHER. 

questions  about  you,  but  generally  he  said  very  little,  unless  we  spoke  to  him. 
At  last,  one  evening,  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  1  found  myself  standing  close 
beside  him,  and  crying  as  hard  as  I  could.  He  was  playing  something  of  his 
own,  then,  and  I  never  heard  such  sorrow  and  loneliness  as  he  conveyed  in  that 
music  ;  he  never  could  have  said  it  in  words — ' 

"  No."  interrupted  Claudia,  softly  ;  "like  dumb  people,  he  expresses  himself 
through  his  fingers." 

"Well,  he  turned  suddenly  and  saw  me.  and  caught  my  two  hands  in  his, 
and  looked  at  me  !  Claudia  !  there  is  a  picture  of  Landseer's — of  a  stag  hunted 
to  death,  and  turning  to  look  at  the  hunters,  who  come  crowding  up  the  hill  to- 
ward him — he  looked  just  like  that :  so  piteous,  and  so  dumb." 

"You  romantic  child,"  said  Claudia,  adding,  a  little  uneasily, 

"  Well,  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word  ;  and,  after  a  minute,  he  closed  the  organ  and  left  the  room. 
But  the  next  time  we  went  he  asked  me  if  I  would  learn  of  him  to  play.  I  said 
that  nothing  could  make  me  happier.  So  he  began  at  once." 

"But  it  did  not  succeed,  I  imagine,"  said  Claudia,  with  another  smile. 

"  What,  the  teaching  ?     O,  yes,  I  learned  quite  easily." 

"No;  I  don't  mean  the  teaching.  The  poor  old  hermit  did  not  find  his 
homoeopathic  idea  of  curing  the  disease  by  reproducing  its  cause,  successful  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Neria,  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"  Well,  never  mind.     So  you  took  lessons  ?     For  how  long  ?  " 

"Three  or  four  years — till  Miss  Boardman,  who  used  to  go  with  me,  left  us, 
and  Mrs.  Rhee  said  it  was  improper  for  me  to  go  alone ;  so,  as  Franc  wouldn't 
go,  and  there  was  no  one  else,  I  left  off." 

"  But  you  are  going  now  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  within  a  few  months  Mr.  Gillies  has  been  quite  ill  and  very  dull.  We 
heard  of  it  through  his  housekeeper,  and  one  day  Francia  and  I  called  to  see  if 
he  needed  anything  that  we  could  send  him.  He  asked  to  have  us  come  in,  and 
said  if  I  would  sit  down  and  play  for  him,  it  would  do  more  good  than  anything 
else.  I  did  it,  of  course,  and,  when  I  was  going,  he  thanked  me  with  so  much 
feeling  that  I  asked  if  I  should  not  come  again.  He  said  so  much  in  reply  that 
I  was  quite  ashamed  to  hear  him ;  and  ever  since  I  have  been  over,  at  intervals, 
and  am  going  now.  Now  you  are  all  here,  I  am  more  occupied  at  home,  and 
have  only  been  once  in  three  weeks  ;  but  this  morning  (on  the  terrace)  I  re- 
solved to  go  before  dinner,  let  what  would  stand  in  the  way.  I  have  done 
wrong  not  to  do  so  sooner." 

The  two  girls  walked  on  in  silence.  Presently  Claudia  stopped,  and,  looking 
far  away  to  the  point  where,  beneath  a  silvery  shimmer,  the  sea  seemed  to  melt 
into  the  sky,  she  said  in  a  low  voice, 

"  It  was  like  me." 

"What?"  asked  Neria. 

"  Why,  child,  you  were  too  young  and  too  innocent  to  see  what  went  on  be- 
neath your  eyes  that  summer.  I  was  curious  to  know  if  that  hard,  cold  man, 
with  his  one  passion,  had  any  heart.  I  searched  till  I  found  it.  and — I  broke  it." 

Neria  looked  at  her,  with  a  slow  horror  gathering  in  her  eyes. 

"  O  Claudia  !  "  was  all  she  said  ;  but  as  she  turned  and  walked  on  alone,  the 
remorseful  woman  who  had  met  those  eyes  and  heard  that  tone,  sank  down  upon 
the  beach  and  wept  as  she  had  not  wept  since  the  fatal  day  that  first  saw  her 
glide  beneath  John  Gillies's  roof. 


CIPHER.  55 

CHAPTER  IV. 

MR.   GILLIES   DISCHARGES    HIMSELF   OF   HIS   TRUST. 

ARRIVED  at  Cragness,  Neria  was  at  once  admitted  to  the  library,  and  found 
its  master  seated  at  the  open  window,  looking  listlessly  out  over  the  water.  He 
rose  as  his  guest  entered,  mutely  greeted  her,  and  then  feebly  sank  again  into 
the  great  arm-chair.  The  years  had  wrought  upon  John  Gillies  in  a  fashion 
characteristic  of  himself.  -His  tall  figure  was  not  bowed,  but  seemed  to  have 
dried  away  to  a  skeleton,  thinly  covered  with  indurated  flesh  and  ashen  skin  ; 
his  grey  hair  was  no  thinner  than  it  had  been  twenty  years  before  ;  his  dry  lips 
closed  as  firmly,  his  shaggy  brows  drew  together  as  keenly,  but  in  the  eyes 
themselves  there  was  a  change.  Those  grey  eyes  no  longer  looked  on  men  and 
things  with  the  shrewd  suspicion,  the  crafty  watchfulness,  of  their  youth,  but 
had  taken  a  dreary,  introspective  softness  into  their  depths — a  pain,  a  doubt,  a 
longing,  inexpressibly  mournful  to  Neria,  who  looked  now  at  her  old  friend  with 
a  new  appreciation  of  the  silent  story  of  his  life. 

Almost  without  a  word,  Mr.  Gillies  unlocked  the  organ  and  motioned  the 
young  girl  to  seat  herself  at  it.  As  silently,  she  complied  ;  and  presently  stole 
out  upon  the  hushed  air,  not  the  pain  and  sorrow  of  the  human  heart  aching  in 
the  musician's  breast,  but  a  tender  melody,  rising  and  deepening  to  a  noble  an- 
them— tones  of  lofty  hope,  of  aspiration  and  prophecy — a  strain  that  bore  the 
listener  from  the  grief  of  earth  to  the  content  of  heaven  ;  that,  in  language  high 
above  speech,  told  of  the  grand  unities  of  creation,  of  the  eternal  harmony  in 
which  all  discords  shall  yet  be  resolved,  and  the  incompleteness  and  vagueness 
of  life  shall  be  satisfied,  by  the  Master's  hand  striking  the  grand  chord,  em- 
bodying in  its  fulness  the  key-note  of  every  man's  soul. 

The  solemn  joy  died  away,  and  Neria  sat,  with  bowed  head  and  dreamy 
eyes,  her  fingers  idly  wandering  over  the  keys,  and  drawing  from  them  faint 
whispers,  dim  echoes  —hints  of  the  murmuring  sea  that  swept  up  beneath  the 
Open  window,  of  the  summer  that  glowed  in  sky  and  shore. 

A  thin,  hard  hand,  laid  lightly  upon  her  arm,  roused  her,  with  a  start. 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  Miss  Neria,"  said  John  Gillies,  and  walked 
stiffly  back  to  his  seat  in  the  window,  where  Neria  followed  him,  and  silently 
sat. 

But  the  recluse  seemed  to  relapse  into  his  usual  reticence.  Leaning  an  el- 
bow on  the  table  and  his  chin  upon  his  palm,  he  sat  looking  far  away  to  the  hori- 
zon line,  where,  like  the  wings  of  a  great  bird,  the  sails  of  a  distant  ship  glanced 
and  wavered  in  the  sunlight. 

"  You  are  not  quite  well  yet,  Mr.  Gillies,"  said  Neria,  at  length,  fancying 
herself  forgotten. 

The  dreamy  eyes  came  back  from  the  white-winged  ship  now  sinking  below 
the  horizon,  and  fixed  upon  her  face. 

"  Not  well  ?     I  can  hardly  say  that ;  but  I  am  going  away,  Miss  Neria." 

"  Away  from  Cragness  ? " 

"  Away  from  everything.  I  don't  say,  going  to  die,  because  I  don't  know 
what  that  means  ;  but  I  am  soon  to  make  the  great  change,  and  I  have  an  un- 
fulfilled trust  holding  me  back.  This  trust  I  wish  to  make  over  to  you,  if  you 
will  have  it ;  but  first  I  must  tell  you  what  it  has  done  for  me.  Then  you  shall 
choose." 

Again  he  paused,  and  in  his  fixed  eyes  dim  shadows  of  the  past  slowly  gath- 
ered and  darkened.  When  he  spoke  again,  it  was  in  a  weary  and  hollow  voice-: 


56  CITHER. 

"  I  made  the  grand  mistake  of  my  life  in  coming  here.  I  did  not  know  my- 
self as  I  now  do,  or  I  never  should  have  accepted  Reginald  Vaughn's  bequest. 
My  nature,  unlike  that  of  other  men,  had  but  one  passion — one  point  open  to 
romance  or  idealism — and  through  this  one  narrow  channel  pouied  all  the  im- 
pulses of  my  life,  leaving  the  rest  to  be  guided  by  reason,  method,  habit. 

"  The  combination,  if  unusual,  was  effective.  The  vehemence  of  my  passion 
for  music  was  toned  and  restrained  by  the  habits  of  mv  daily  life,  and  when, 
after  the  dry  routine  of  labor,  I  could  feel  myself  free  to  indulge  this  passion, 
it  was  to  me  as  love  and  fame,  as  home  and  wife  and -children  are  to  other  men. 
It  was  my  solace,  my  rest  and  recreation. 

"  I  came  here.  All  the  fashion  of  my  life  was  changed.  I  no  longer  mingled 
with  men.  I  no  longer  filled  a  place  in  the  affairs  of  the  world  ;  the  bonds  that 
had  for  years  held  me  to  a  positive  duty,  a  defined  position,  were  snapped  at  a 
blow.  I  had  no  longer  hours,  requirements,  or  responsibilities,  save  such  as 
were  self-imposed.  My  whole  life  was  unhinged. 

"  Add  to  this  a  secret,  a  solemn  mystery  placed  in  my  hands  by  a  dying  man, 
who  bade  me  live  here  in  this  very  room,  where  every  handsbreaclth  of  surface, 
every  book,  every  mote  floating  in  the  air,  the  sea  booming  against  its  walls — • 
yes,  even  my  own  organ — all  know  this  secret,  all  taunt  me  with  it,  all  whisper 
it  forever  in  an  unknown  tongue,  which  I  have  wasted  my  life  to  learn,  and  yet 
do  not  know." 

He  looked  slowly  about  the  room,  with  a  wild,  hungry  light  in  his  sunken 
eyes,  and  Neria's  heart  thrilled  with  a  strange  fear.  Gillies  glanced  sharply  at 
her,  and  said,  quietly, 

"  It  would  not  be  strange  if  my  brain  were  unsettled,  but  it  is  not — as  yet. 
Whether  death  or  madness  come  first,  Fate  only  knows." 

"  Fate  !  "  said  Neria,  softly. 

"Yes;  or  God,  if  you  prefer.  It  is  the  same  power  by  a  different  name. 
Do  not  talk  of  that. 

"  My  nature  is'  one  slow  to  take  impressions.  For  years  the  change  wrought 
by  this  new  life  was  almost  imperceptible  ;  as  imperceptible  and  as  unpausing 
as  the  hand  of  time.  I  gave  myself  up  to  music  ;  I  collected  the  works  of  the 
great  masters  in  the  art ;  I  dreamed  over  them,  and  tried  to  find  in  myself  the 
power  to  rival  them  ;  I  brought  from  Germany  this  organ,  the  chef-d 'a'uvre  of 
its  artist ;  for  he  was  a  man  who  expressed  Art  in  form,  as  the  musician  does 
in  sound.  I  replied  in  dreams  and  visions  like  those  that  break  the  hearts  of 
poets,  who  can  »md  in  words  no  language  to  embody  them.  I  lived  a  life  of  pas- 
sion and  excess  with  my  beautiful  Art,  and  she  turned  upon  me,  as  these  idols 
will,  and  slew  me." 

He  rose  and  paced  the  dusky  room  in  strong  emotion,  and  presently  sank 
back  into  his  chair,  pale  and  exhausted. 

•'  I  blaspheme,"  said  he,  in  a  choked  voice.  "  It  was  not  Art  that  slew  me — 
it  was  I,  who  knew  not  that  man  is  not  as  a  God,  and  cannot  live  above  the 
earth  without  sooner  or  later  feeling  earth's  vengeance. 

"Years  of  this  life  wrought  their  work  upon  me  at  last.  My  great  passion 
had  taken  possession  of  my  entire  existence,  forcing  to  unnatural  development 
the  impulses  severely  restrained  by  the  rigor  of  my  former  life — awakening  ca- 
pacities and  wants  unknown  to  my  earlier  years.  I  was  roused,  restless,  and 
unsatisfied.  Then  came  the  vengeance  of  earth — came  in  the  old  familiar  form 
of — woman." 

The  bitter  contortion  of  his  mouth  was  not  a  smile,  but  matched  well  with 
the  cruel  self-contempt  of  his  sudden  glance. 


CIPHER.  57 

"I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Neria,  softly.  "Do  not  speak  of  it,  if  it 
pains  you." 

"  You  know  ?  Well,  it  spares  me  some  pain,  and  so  let  it  pass.  Since  then, 
my  life  has  been  the,  broken  reed  that  has  at  last  pierced  to  the  heart.  Aimless 
and  discontented,  it  has  no  longer  the  pure  purpose,  the  earnest  faith,  which 
Art  demands  of  her  favored  lovers.  The  inspiration  of  those  first  years  never 
comes  now  ;  I  no  longer  create— I  can  only  copy  ;  and  the  masters  whom  I 
hoped  to  emulate  no  longer  whisper  their  secrets  to  my  heart.  I  profaned  the 
pure  worship  of  the  divinity  by  conjoining  a  false  idol  with  it,  and  now  I  am 
Cast  out,  broken,  forsaken,  unworthy  even  to  lie  at  the  steps  of  the  altar." 

The  wild  gleam  had  returned  to  his  eyes,  and  again  he  paced  up  and  down 
the  dim  chamber,  pausing  in  its  midst,  at  last,  to  say: 

"  And  this  secret  of  the  old  man's  :  I  have  never  found  it  out,  and  it  haunts 
me  day  and  night.  You  see  now  what  it  has  done  for  me.  Will  you  have  it  ? " 

Neria  turned  pale,  and  looked  vaguely  about  the  room,  as  she  answered,  re- 
luctantly, 

"  I  am  afraid  of  secrets." 

"  But  I  cannot  carry  this  one  to  haunt  me  in  another  w.orld,  as  it  has  in  this," 
said  Gillies,  nervously.  "  Besides,  who  knows  whether  that  old  man  who  gave 
it  me  may  not  demand  a  reckoning  when  we  meet  there  beyond,  and  then  it  will 
be  too  late.  And  who  is  there  but  you  ?„" 

"Mr.  Vaughn  is  far  wiser  than  I — "  began  Neria,  but  Gillies  impatiently 
moved  his  hand. 

"  It  is  to  be  told  to  none  of  the  name  or  race  of  Vaughn,"  said  he.  "And 
if  you  will  not  have  it,  I  must  take  it  with  me.  But  I  hoped  to  leave  it  this  side 
the  grave." 

Moved  by  his  voice  and  manner,  Neria  took  counsel  with  herself  for  a  few 
moments,  and  then  said, 

"  Can  you  trust  me  so  far  as  to  tell  the  secret,  and  then  allow  me  choice  in 
the  matter  of  accepting  the  charge  it  contains  ?  You  cannot  doubt  that,  at  all 
events,  I  shall  keep  it  inviolable  !  " 

Gillies  considered. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  I  will  trust  you.     Wait." 

From  a  locked  drawer  of  his  desk  he  drew  a  sealed  package,  and,  after  at- 
tentively examining  it,  placed  it  in  Neria's  hands. 

•'There,"  said  he,  "is  the  letter  the  old  man  left  for  me,  and  it  contains  all 
the  information  I  am  able  to  give  you.  I  have  not  advanced  one  step  beyond. 
Keep  the  package  carefully,  and,  when  I  am  dead,  read  and  act  upon  it  as  you 
think  fit.  You  will  then  be  mistress  of  Cragness,  and  may  you  escape  the  ctirse 
it  has  brought  with  it  to  me.  Now  go,  for  my  gloomy  mood  is  at  hand,  and  you 
cannot  help  me." 

Neria  took  the  letter,  and,  as  she  touched  it,  a  light  shudder  ran  through  her 
frame. 

"After  reading,  I  am  free  to  accept  or  refuse  the  trust  ?"  asked  she,  again. 

"  Yes  ;  but,  if  you  refuse,  choose  another  agent,  and  give  this  house  and  the 
secret  to  him.  It  is  your  responsibility'  now — I  have  clone  with  it." 

"At  all  events,  the  trust  is  inviolable,"  said  Neria,  solemnly;  but  Gillies, 
who  had  thrown  himself  into  his  chair,  with  his  face  to  the  window,  made  no  re- 
ply ;  and  Neria,  unwilling  to  disturb  his  reverie,  silently  left  the  room. 

In  the  passage  she  met  old  Lazarus  Graves,  and,  with  a  smile  and  kind  word, 
passing  on,  presently  found  herself  breathing  more  freely  in  the  open  air. 


58  CIPHER. 

"  How  unfortunate,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  am  I,  who  dislike  secrets  so  mucn, 
and  have  two  of  them  given  to  me  in  one  day." 


CHAPTER  V. 

AND   LAZARUS   GRAVES   OF   HIS. 

WITHOUT  appearing  to  see  Neria,  to  whose  patient  ear  he  was  usually  gar- 
rulous of  the  old  days  in  which  he  lived,  Lazarus  Graves  passed  on  into  the 
library,  and  stood,  with  folded  hands  and  smiling  face,  looking  up  and  down  the 
room  with  the  humble  fondness  of  a  dog  who  watches  his  masters  movements. 
But,  of  a  sudden,  a  shade  of  bewilderment  crossed  the  wrinkled  face,  and,  turn- 
ing his  head  rapidly  from  side  to  side,  the  old  man,  with  his  dim  eyes,  searched 
the  room  again,  as  does  the  dog  who  suddenly  misses  the  beloved  figure.  "With 
increasing  perplexity  he  turned  to  look  at  the  door  behind  him.  It  was  close 
shut.  Then  he  tottered  across  the  room,  and  laid  a  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of 
the  motionless  figure  m  the  arm-chair. 

"  Well  ?  "  demanded  John  Gillies,  impatiently. 

"  Where  is  he  gone  ? "  asked  Lazarus,  in  a  voice  as  dim  and  hollow  as  a 
sound  lost  ages  ago  in  the  catacombs,  and  ever  since  trying  to  escape  to  the 
open  air. 
"  Who  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Reginald.  He  passed  me  as  I  sat  upon  the  doorstep  in  the  sun,  and 
smiled.  He  has  a  rare  smile,  has  Mr.  Reginald  ;  and  then  he  came  in,  and  up 
the  passage,  and  into  this  room.  I  hobbled  after  as  fast  as  I  could,  for  I  wanted 
to  hear  him  say  I  had  kept  all  as  he  told  me  when  he  went  away.  And  now, 
where  is  he  ?  " 

Gillies  made  no  reply,  but  turned  and  looked  attentively  at  the  old  man,  who 
maundered  on : 

"  He  said  he'd  come  back,  and  I  knew  he  would  ;  and  I've  been  waiting  this 
many  a  day  just  to  hear  him  say  I'd  kept  all  as  he  wanted ;  and  now  he's  come, 
and  if  he  goes  again  I'll  go,  too  ;  but — but  where  is  he  ? " 

Still,  without  answer  to  the  pitiful  appeal,  Gillies  watched  the  old  man  as  he 

stood  there  in  the  sunshine,  his  bowed  figure  leaning  on  his  staff,  his  thin,  white 

hair  floating  over  his  shoulders,  his  mouth  trembling  with  emotion,  his  dim,  blue 

eyes  always  wandering  about  the  room,  while  once  more  he  piteously  murmured, 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Where  you  and  I  will  soon  be  with  him,  old  man — and  where  is  that  ? " 
said  Gillies,  at  length  ;  but  Lazarus  Graves  did  not  hear  him.  Dropping  his 
staff,  he  had  clasped  his  hands  and  raised  both  them  and  his  ashen  face  in  a  joy- 
ous ecstasy,  while  his  eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  a  point  at  the  opposite  side  of 
the  room. 

"Why,  there  he  is  now,"  cried  he,  "with  his  hand  upon  that  book  he  used 
to  be  so  fond  of.  He's  looking  at  you,  sir.  Why  don't  you  speak  to  him. 
See  !  " 

"And  the  old  man  pointed  impatiently,  turning,  as  he  spoke,  to  Gillies,  whose 
fixed  eyes  never  swerved  from  the  seer-like  face  of  the  speaker. 

"  Ah,  now  he  sees  me  ;  now  he's  going  to  speak,"  murmured  Lazarus,  taking 


Drawn  by  Sol  Eytinge 

AGAIN  HK  SEEMED  TO  LISTEN,  AND  A  BRIGHT  JOY   1KRADIATKD  HIS  FACE. — 


CIPHER.  59 

a  step  forward  and  smiling  joyously,  while  he  seemed  to  listen  to  a  voice  un- 
heard save  by  himself. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Reginald,  you  said  you'd  come,  and  I  knew  it,"  said  he,  at  length. 
"And  I've  kept  all  as  you'd  wish  it,  so  far  as  I  was  able  ;  but  I'm  getting  into 
years  now,  sir,  and  am  pretty  tired  by  spells.  It's  coming  time  for  me  to  rest, 
as  old  folks  must." 

Again  he  seemed  to  listen,  and  a  bright  joy  irradiated  his  face. 

"  Aye,  that  I  will,  sir,"  said  he,  "  I  carried  you  in  my  arms  when  you  was  a 
baby,  and  I've  held  to  you  ever  since  ;  and  I'd  have  followed  you  long  ago  if  I'd 
known  where  to  find  you.  But  now  you've  come  for  me,  I'll  ask  no  better  than 
to  go  along  with  you.  Let's  be  going,  sir.  Good-by,  Mr.  Gillies  ;  you've  been 
kind  and  good  to  me  ;  but  my  old  mr  ster's  come  back  at  last,  and  I'm  going 
away  witlj  him.  He's  come  for  me." 

"  Say  you  so,  old  man  ?  "  muttered  Gillies.  "  Then,  by  Heaven's  grace,  has 
he  come  for  me,  too." 

Without  heeding  him,  Lazarus  turned,  and  moved  a  few  steps  toward  the 
door,  paused,  tottered,  threw  up  his  arms  with  a  stifled  gasp,  and  fell  forward 
upon  his  face.  He  had  followed  his  master. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   HOUSEKEEPER. 

His  family  and  guests  dispersed  to  their  several  amusements  or  occupations, 
Mr.  Vaughn  sought  his  study,  and,  after  an  interval  of  anxious  thought,  sum- 
moned Mrs.  Rhee  to  his  presence. 

She  came,  and,  at  a  sign  from  her  master,  seated  herself  in  the  very  chair 
where  she  had  sat  eighteen  years  before,  while  he  told  her  of  his  intention  to 
leave  his  home  for  an  indefinite  period.  These  years  had  borne  heavily  upon 
the  housekeeper,  and  her  youth  had  departed  with  them,  leaving  but  a  pallid 
wreck  of  the  beauty  which  had  so  impressed  John  Gillies  on  the  evening  of  his 
first  visit  to  Bonniemeer.  In  her  dark  eyes,  larger  from  the  attenuation  of  her 
face,  still  lay  the  old,  unquiet  mystery — still  the  hungry  pain  of  an  unsatisfied 
heart ;  and  still  they  followed  every  movement  of  the  master's  stately  figure, 
while  he  silently  paced, the  room,  as  if  they  hoped  and  dreaded  to  read  in  his 
face  an  answer  to  their  appeal. 

At  last,  Vaughn  stopped  in  front  of  her.     His  face  was  both  stern  and  sad. 

"You  have  not  held  to  my  directions  with  regard  to  Neria,"  said  he,  quietly. 

The  woman's  face  flushed,  and  her  eyes  drooped. 

"  How  ?"  asked  she. 

"  I  desired  that  the  knowledge  of  her  birth  might  be  kept  from  her.  I  de- 
sired that  no  difference  should  be  made  between  her  and  P>ancia,"  said  Vaughn. 

"  I  have  tried  to  obey,  but  you  should  have  thought  how  hard  a  task  you  im- 
posed upon  me,"  faltered  the  housekeeper. 

Vaughn  impatiently  waved  his  hand. 

"There  is  the  trouble,"  said  he.  "  You  will  not  forget,  you  will  rrot  put  out 
of  sight,  what  I  have  desired  should  be  forgotten  and  put  out  of  sight." 

"  You  have  found  it  very  easy  to  do  so ;  I  am  of  a  more  faithful  nature,"  said 
Ms.  Rhee,  bitterly. 

Vaughn  frowned  and  resumed  his  restless  promenade. 


60  CIPHER. 

"  At  least,"  said  he,  harshly,  "  I  might  have  expected  you  to  comply  with  my 
directions  that  the  child  should  not  be  informed  of  her  origin." 

"The  secret  escaped  me  in  a  moment  of  irritation  at  seeing  her  assume  airs 
of  superiority  over  Francia.  You  yourself  could  not  give  her  the  right  to  do 
that,"  said  Mrs.  Rhee,  boldly. 

"  Yes,  but  I  could,"  retorted  Vaughn,  again  pausing  and  looking  down  at  her. 
"  I  could  give  her  the  right  to  control  every  inmate  of  this  house,  simply  by 
making  her  my  wife." 

The  housekeeper  turned  frightfully  pale,  and  uttered  a  stifled  cry  of  rage  and 
apprehension — a  passion  of  sobs  and  tears,  which  shook  her  slender  figure 
through  and  through. 

Vaughn  looked  at  her,  while  pity,  pain  and  self-reproach  swept  by  turns 
across  his  face. 

"  Forgive  me,  if  I  have  been  harsh,  Anita,"  said  he,  at  length.  "  I  see  how 
hard  your  life  must  have  been  ;  I  cannot  wonder  at  your  present  feelings.  It 
was  too  much  that  I  asked  of  you.  Indeed,  from  the  first,  it  was  ill-judged  of 
me  to  put  you  in  your  present  position." 

"It  was  my  own  wish,  and  I  was  content  to  abide  the  consequences,"  said 
the  housekeeper,  without  looking  up. 

"  I  know,  and  I  yielded  to  your  solicitations,  against  my  better  judgment. 
It  was  a  weak  compliance,  and,  while  it  has  made  you  no  happier,  h<.s  kept  alive 
in  my  heart  a  painful  secret  that  might  long  since  have  been  put  aside  but  for 
your  presence." 

Mrs.  Rhee  raised  her  head  with  dignity. 

"  It  is  better,  then,  that  I  should  go.  at  any  rate,"  said  she. 

"  Perhaps  it  is,  Anita,"  replied  Vaughn,  kindly,  but  with  an  unconcealed  ex- 
pression of  relief  upon  his  face. 

"Do  not  think,"  added  he,  hastily,  "that  I  am  displeased  with  you,  or  that 
we  part  on  other  than  the  best  of  terms.  I  do  not  forget  the  tie  that  binds  us 
together,  and,  though  it  can  never  be  recognized,  it  shall  always  give  you  a  claim 
to  every  care,  every  consideration,  at  my  hands." 

"Every  consideration  ?"  asked  the  housekeeper,  with  deliberate  emphasis. 

"  Every  consideration  consistent  with  my  own  safety  and  my  daughter's  wel- 
fare," said  Vaughn,  impatiently. 

Mrs.  Rhee  replied  by  a  slow  and  bitter  smile. 

"  You  cannot  expect  me  to  sacrifice  these,  especially  now,  when  I  have 
guarded  them,  and  forced  you  to  guard  them,  for  twenty  years  ? "  demanded 
Vaughn,  sharply. 

"  I  expect  nothing  but  death,  which  must  come,  sooner  or  later,  and  to  be 
forgotten,"  said  the  woman,  bitterly,  and  glided  from  the  room,  leaving  the  mas- 
ter of  Bonniemeer  to  ponder,  through  a  weary  hour,  as  many  a  man  has  done 
before,  how  best  he  might  pluck  out  from  his  harvest-field  the  tares  whose  seeds 
had  been  sown  with  the  wheat. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A      MARRIAGE. 

ALL  through  the  day,  John  Gillies  sat  almost  motionless  in  the  embayed  win- 
dow, his  dreamy  eyes  gazing  far  across  the  shining  waters,  his  thoughts  roaming 
beyond  the  limits  of  sea,  or  earth,  or  life  itself. 

Nancy  Brume  in  vain  invited  him  to  eat  of  her  choicest  viands,  in  vain  im- 
portuned him  with  questions  as  to  the  sudden  death  of  Lazarus  Graves,  and  the 
disposition  to  be  made  of  his  body.  He  answered  everything  with  a  briefly-ex- 
pressed desire  to  be  left  alone,  and  the  housekeeper,  who  had  gradually  acquired 
a  profound  respect  for  the  wishes  of  her  taciturn  master,  at  last  complied, 
and  from  the  middle  of  that  day  to  the  morning  of  the  next,  did  not  venture  in 
his  presence. 

The  long  summer  day  ended,  and  with  the  sunset  came  rolling  up  out  of  the 
the  south  great  clouds  which  presently  wrapped  heaven  and  earth  in  a  black 
and  stifling  mantle,  through  whose  folds  peered  no  light  of  moon  or  stars,  al- 
though each  sullen  wave,  as  it  rolled  shoreward,  was  crested  with  the  lurid  light 
of  its  own  phosphorescence,  and,  breaking  upon  the  beach,  tossed  its  fiery  sparkles 
far  up  the  level  sands. 

Dark  and  heavy  as  fell  the  night  upon  the  beach,  it  fell  darker  and  heavier 
yet  in  that  close-mouthed  and  ghastly  chamber,  darkest  and  heaviest  of  all  in 
the  heart  of  the  man  sitting  so  rigidly  in  the  old  arm-chair,  gazing,  forever  gazing 
over  the  phosphorescent  sea,  into  the  black  void  beyond,  holding  for  him,  not 
alone  the  secret  he  had  so  wearied  to  discover,  but  all  secrets,  the  last  great 
secret,  the  secret  in  whose  utterance  the  lips  of  the  Sphynx  petrified  forever, 
leaving  the  unspoken  word  to  be  guessed  from  her  melancholy  eyes. 

Hour  by  hour  the  night  stole  on,  until  the  rising  tide  lapped  with  its  fiery 
tongues  tbe  foundations  of  the  old  house,  and  all  the  monsters  that  be  beneath 
the  sea  rose,  each  in  his  place,  to  look  in  at  the  man  who  still  sat  waiting,  always 
waiting  until  the  hour  should  come.  It  came  at  last.  A  spirit  moved  upon  the 


62  CIPHER. 

vast  waters,  entered  at  the  open  window  and  laid  its  shadowy  pall  upon  that 
weary  head  and  breathed  upon  those  pallid  lips  ;  and  before  those  wistful  eyes 
opened  a  vision,  a  foreseeing,  a  promise  such  as  no  man  who  has  seen  has  ever 
found  tongue  to  tell. 

Over  the  white  and  weary  face  came  a  smile  such  as  had  never  rested  there 
before,  and  the  musician,  softly  rising,  went  through  the  gloomy  room  to  place 
himself  at  the  organ.  His  fingers  fell  upon  the  keys,  and  that  sweet,  strange  smile 
passed  through  them,  and  embodied  itself  in  sound.  Such  sounds  !  Such  "  long 
disquiet  merged  in  rest !  "  Such  full  content  and  peace  ;  such  grand  and  solemn 
joy  !  And,  ah !  the  glorious  rending  of  the  bonds  and  cerements  that  had 
cramped  in  earth's  heavy  atmosphere  the  spirit  whose  home  was  in  the  clouds  ! 
It  was  the  song  of  the  lark  who  sees  the  door  of  his  cage  thrown  wide,  and 
after  weary  months  of  pining,  in  one  instant  finds  the  prison  far  below,  nothing 
but  the  subtle  ether  around,  nothing  but  the  sunbright  heavens  above,  and  who, 
thrilling  upward  to  the  sky,  sends  a  joyful  heralding  of  song  before  him,  whose 
tones  dropping  back  to  earth,  steal  into  men's  hearts  like  the  memories  of  their 
youth,  like  the  faith  of  their  childhood. 

Such  music  it  was  that  floated  out  upon  the  mirky  air  of  the  summer's  night, 
until  the  listening  monsters,  catching  its  joyful  meaning,  lashed  the  waters  into 
pools  of  fire  with  their  ponderous  glee,  and  sported  together  till  the  sliding 
waves  broke'  in  great  shouts  of  laughter  on  the  beach.  Only  the  mermaids,  the 
Undines,  would  not  sport  or  laugh,  but  hiding  their  faces  in  their  long  hair,  clung 
to  each  other  trembling  and  sobbing,  for  they,  whose  merry  lives  are  forever 
shadowed  by  the  thought  of  the  immortality  Denied  them,  knew  that  the  joy  of 
the  musician's  heart  was  a  joy  in  which  they  had  no  share  ;  they  knew  that  from 
their  golden  harps  no  such  notes  should  ever  ring — through  their  soulless  lives 
never  thrill  such  ecstasy. 

And  as  the  dark  night  waned,  and  aged,  and  came  to  the  dawning  of  another 
day,  the  musician  gathered  his  life  in  his  hands  and  inspired  with  it  the  tones 
that  grew  beneath  his  touch.  It  was  no  longer  music,  it  was  the  soul  of  a  man 
who  had  lived  and  died  for  music,  and  to  whom  the  divine  art  had  at  the  last 
granted  its  love  and  grace,  and  had  entered  into  his  form,  and  made  itself  one 
with  his  spirit,  until  soul  and  art  together  sang  such  a  nuptial  hymn,  chanted 
their  epithalamium  in  such  a  glory  of  triumphant  harmony  as  never  before  has 
earth  heard,  never  the  heavens  let  fall  to  man. 

And  in  that  grand  triumph  of  his  life,  in  that  glorious  consummation  of  an 
eternal  union,  the  soul  of  John  Gillies  emancipated  itself  from  the  broken  body 
that  had  confined  it,  and  soared  upward  until  its  broad  vans  were  gilded  by  the 
rays  of  the  rising  sun. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE   OLD   MAN   OF   THE   SEA   UPON   NEW   SHOULDERS. 

AMONG  Mr.  Gillies's  few  papers  was  found  a  will,  bequeathing  his  entire 
property  to  Neria.  This  instrument  was  dated  only  the  day  before  his  death, 
and  made  no  allusions  to  the  peculiar  conditions  involved  in  the  heirship.  But 
to  Neria's  delicate  conscience  this  silence  only  made  her  duties  more  'onerous ; 
and,  on  the  day  after  the  funeral,  she  went  to  Cragness,  and  locking  herself  into 


CIPHER.  63 

the  library,  opened  and  read  the  letter  of  instruction  left  by  Reginald  Vaughn 
for  the  guidance  of  his  first  heir. 

Youth  is  brave,  and  Neria  was  too  devout  a  worshipper  of  truth  to  be  easily 
daunted  by  mystery.  It  seemed  to  her  that,  if  one  inquired  earnestly  after  any- 
thing, he  must  be  answered  by  flesh,  or  spirit,  earth,  air,  or  water.  As  an 
infant  may,  perchance,  see  in  his  first  worldly  surroundings  and  attendants  the 
heaven  and  the  angels  he  has  just  left  behind,  Neria  fancied  every  man  and  wo- 
man an  Ithuriel,  armed  with  the  diamond-pointed  spear  whose  touch  must  extort 
truth  from  its  most  ingenious  involvements. 

So  she  doubted  nothing  of  discovering  at  her  pleasure  this  secret,  whose  re- 
sponsibility had  lain  with  such  nightmare  weight  upon  the  musician's  mind,  and 
she  only  wished  that  he  had  sooner  taken  her  into  council,  that,  by  seeing  the 
mystery  unravelled  in  his  lifetime,  he  should  have  been  relieved  in  death  of  the 
haunting  anxiety  and  remorse  so  apparent  in  their  last  interview. 

The  names  of  Reuben  and  Nancy  Brume  were  signed  as  witnesses  to  the 
will,  but  neither  was  aware  of  its  contents  ;  and  the  natural  curiosity  upon  the 
subject  burning  in  the  mind  of  each  was  very  pleasantly  allayed  by  Neria's 
quiet  information  that  she  was  now  possessor  of  the  estate,  and  should  wish 
them  to  continue  to  fill  their  present  position  in  the  house. 

"And  will  you  come  and  stop  here,  miss  ?"  asked  the  housekeeper,  in  some 
bewilderment. 

"  Not  at  present,"  replied  her  new  mistress,  with  a  smile.  "  My  guardian, 
Mr.  Vaughn,  would  hardly  think  me  old  enough  or  wise  enough  to  manage  a 
house  of  my  own.  But  after  a  while,  I  dare  say,  I  shall  come  and  live  here,  and 
have  you  to  take  care  of  me,  Mrs.  Brume.  Then  it  will  be  I  who  shall  sit  all 
day  in  the  gloomy  library,  and  play  at  night  upon  the  great  organ.  It  will  be 
Mr.  Gillies  all  over  again.  I  always  thought  I  should  like  it." 

"That  sort  of  a  life  ain't  meant  for  young  ladies,"  said  the  housekeeper, 
scornfully.  "  They'd  ought  to  be  going  to  balls  and  parties,  and  dressing  up, 
and  keeping  company,  and  getting  married.  After  that's  time  enough  to  settle 
down." 

Neria  smiled  again,  gently,  but  with  such  reserve  that  Mrs.  Brume  closed 
her  lips  upon  the  piece  of  advice  just  ready  to  issue  from  them,  and  asked,  in- 
stead, 

"  Have  you  any  d'rections  to  give,  Miss  Neria,  about  the  way  things  are  to 
go  here,  or  shall  we  just  keep  on  in  the  old  way  ? " 

"  In  the  old  way,"  said  Neria,  dreamily.  "  Let  everything  be  just  as  it  has 
always  been,  more  as  if  the  master  were  gone  for  a  visit  than  for  ever — as  if  he 
might  return  at  any  moment.  I  can  hardly  believe  it  otherwise,  even  yet." 

With  a  gracious  movement  of  leave-taking,  the  young  mistress  of  Cragness 
descended  the  path  to  the  beach  and  flitted  away  through  the  twilight,  until,  in 
the  distance,  she  showed  like  some  graceful  vision  fashioned  of  the  rising  mist, 
which,  at  the  last,  closed  over  it  and  reclaimed  it. 

Nancy  Brume  stood  watching  her  from  the  cliff,  with  arms  akimbo  and  brows 
drawn  into  the  scowl  universal  among  dwellers  by  the  sea,  whose  eyes  thus  ha- 
bitually seek  to  shelter  themselves  from  the  glare  of  sand  and  water,  and  so  ac- 
quire a  ferocious  expression  oddly  at  variance  with  the  real  kindliness  of  nature 
almost  as  universal. 

Reuben,  lying  stretched  upon  the  short,  brown  grass  at  her  fee.t,  amused  him- 
self with  a  solitary  game  of  stick-knife. 


64  CIPHER. 

"  Reub,"  said  his  wife,  "  I  ain't  more  notional  than  most  folks,  but  something 
she  said  kind  o'  ha'nts  me." 

"  'S  that  so  ?  "  asked  Reuben,  la-%,  adding  a  slight  "  Phew  !  "  as  the  knife, 
in  its  descent,  caught  him  rather  sharply  upon  the  knuckles. 

"  Yes.  Didn't  you  mind  she  said  she  wanted  everything  kept  just  as  if 
Gillies  had  gone  off  for  a  little  while,  and  might  be  back  any  time." 

"  Well,  it's  less  work  than  to  go  to  changing  round,  ain't  it  ?  What's  the 
matter  with  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but,  Reub,  don't  you  mind  how  Lahsrus  was  always  saying  just  the 
same  thing  ?  " 

"  Don't  know  as  I  do,"  returned  Reuben,  absently,  his  mind  engrossed  in 
the  effort  to  catch  the  knife  upon  the  back  of  his  wrist. 

"Well,  he  was.  He  was  always  telling  that  Mr.  Reginald,  as  he  called  him, 
was  coming  back  sure  some  day,  and  that  everything  had  got  to  be  kept  ready 
for  him.  It  used  to  make  my  flesh  creep,  odd  times,  to  watch  him  going  round 
and  fixing  things  back  when  they'd  got  stirred  a  little.  Don't  you  know  the  old 
boat  he  would  keep  chained  to  the  rock  down  there  till  finally  the  boat  rotted 
away,  piece  by  piece,  and  left  the  chain  hanging,  just  as  they  say  men  have  done 
when  they  was  chained  up  in  dungeons  and  left  to  starve  ? " 

"  He  was  cracked,  Lahsrus  was,"  said  Mr.  Brume,  with  benevolent  contempt. 

"  Mebbe  he  was,  and  then  again  mebbe  he  vva'n't,"  retorted  his  wife.  '*  Any 
how,  he  see  him,  finally." 

"Who — see  who  ? "  asked  Reuben,  leaning  on  one  elbow  and  looking  up  in 
his  wife's  solemn  face. 

"  Lahsrus  see  old  Vaughn.  It  was  the  very  day  he  died,  and  I  was  setting 
to  my  window  sewing,  and  he  was  setting  on  the  door-rock  in  the  sun,  kind  of 
purring  to  himself,  as  he  used  to,  when  all  to  once  I  see  him  put  his  hand  up, 
shading  his  eyes,  and  looking  down  the  path.  Then  he  kind  o'  lighted  up  all 
over,  and  looked  more  man-fashion  than  I'd  seen  him  for  many  a  day,  and,  says 
he,  speaking  up  as  clear  and  bright  as  you  please,  '  It's  my  dear  Mr,  Reginald  — 
he  always  said  he'd  come.'  Then  he  got  up  and  stood  o'  one  side,  turning  his 
head,  just  as  if  some  one  passed  him  and  went  up  the  entry-way,  and  then  he 
followed  right  along  to  the  libr'y.  Mr.  Gillies  never  told  what  he  see  or  said 
when  he  got  there,  for  he  was  struck  with  death  himself  at  that  very  time  ;  but 
I  shall  always  believe  that  Lahsrus  waited  for  his  old  master  till  he  come,  and 
that  they  both  went  off  together. 

"And  now,  don't  you  see,  Neria  kind  o'  sets  it  to  us  to  stop  here  and  wait 
just  the  same  fashion  for  Mr.  Gillies  to  come  back ;  and,  like  enough,  here  we'll 
stick,  year  after  year,  and  year  after  year,  till  we  kind  o'  dry  up  and  lose  all  our 
faculties,  just  as  Lahsrus  did,  and  finally  they'll  come  back  and  carry  us  off.  It's 
just  like  shipping  aboard  the  Flying  Dutchman — seems  to  me." 

Reuben  Brume  sat  upright  and  stared  at  his  wife. 

"Tell  you  what,  Nance,"  said  he,  "you're  getting  cracked,  too,  I  reckon; 
but,  mind  you,  if  it's  so,  I  ain't  going  to  stop  here  along  with  a  loonytic.  How 
would  I  know  but  you'd  take  the  carving-knife  to  me  some  night  ?  I  guess, 
anyway,  I'd  best  be  looking  out  for  a  v'y'ge.  It's  dull  work  stopping  here." 

Mrs.  Brume  looked  contemptuously  down  at  her  lord,  again  recumbent  on 
the  turf. 

"'Fore  you  sign  your  name  to  any  ship's  books,"  said  she,  "you'd  oughter 
tell  the  skipper  that  you're  a  sick  man,  and  that  your  ailment  's  dreadful  catch- 
ing." 


CIPHER.  65 

"  What  you  driving  at  now,  Nance  ? "  inquired  the  husband,  with  an  uneasy 
foreboding  of  an  impending  blow. 

"  Why  there  wa'n't  never  a  clearer  case  of 

Fever-de-lurke, 
Two  stomachs  to  eat, 
And  none  to  work, 

since  time  begun,"  said  Mrs.  Brume,  dryly ;  "  and  I  reckon  your  best  course  is 
to  be  off  to  sea  as  fast  as  you  can.  You'll  get  nussed  with  ropes'  ends  and 
b'laying  pins  there,  and  that's  just  the  physic  for  your  disorder." 

Reuben  turned  upon  his  stomach  and  silently  resumed  his  game  of  stick- 
knife,  while  Nancy,  with  a  grim  smile  upon  her  lips,  returned  to  the  lonely 
house,  where  now,  in  the  dim  twilight,  the  shadows  that  all  day  lay  hidden  in 
the  corners  and  corridors,  in  the  height  of  the  vaulted  ceilings,  or  in  the  angles 
of  the  unlighted  stair-case,  came  boldly  out  and  flitted  through  the  empty  rooms, 
danced  gleefully  over  the  dead  men's  memories  that  lay  beneath  their  feet,  drew 
their  clammy  fingers  over  the  keys  of  the  great  organ,  crept  into  the  chair  where 
Reginald  Vaughn  and  John  Gillies  had  sat  watching  and  waiting,  until  death 
came  sailing  across  the  sea  and  hailed  them  to  take  passage  with  him — hovered 
about  the  hearth  and  cowered  above  the  blaze  until  it  started  up  in  wrath  and 
flashed  out  such  a  sudden  light  and  heat  that  the  shadows  fled  gibbering  to  their 
corners,  and  the  Knight  in  Golden  Armor  upon  the  wall  stood  boldly  out,  as  if 
he  were  charging  upon  them  with  his  black  horse  and  his  proud  slogan :  " Diev, 
It  roy,  et  lefoy  du  Vaughn .'  " 


66  CIPHER. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

A     DROP-CURTAIN. 

AND  now,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Livingstone,  having  completed  their  visit  to  Bonnie- 
meer,  were  on  the  point  of  returning  to  the  city,  and  Claudia  insisted  that  Neria  and 
Francia  should  accompany  them,  and  make  their  debut  in  society  under  her 
chaperonage.  Francia  was  wild  with  delight  at  prospect  of  the  gay  life  prom- 
ised her  by  her  cousin,  while  Neria  looked  and  listened  much  after  the  fashion 
of  a  fawn,  who,  wandering  to  the  edge  of  his  native  forest,  sees  suddenly  before 
him  a  great  plain  with  a  city  in  its  midst,  its  domes  glittering,  its  many-win- 
dowed palaces  flashing  back  the  morning  sun,  shaded  gardens  nestling  about  it, 
and  an  army  with  plumes  and  pennons,  fanfare  of  trumpets  and  flash  of  accou- 
trements, winding  out  of  its  gates,  and  stretching  like  a  glittering  serpent  across 
the  plain.  So  strange,  so  unlearned,  so  ominous,  and  so  fascinating  lay  life  be- 
fore Neria,  child  of  the  sea  and  the  sky,  her  feet  set  in  the  path  worn  deep  by 
tlie-steps  of  those  who  have  trod  it  since  first  it  led  Eve  away  from  paradise, 
her  head  still  crowned  with  the  glory  lingering  around  every  fresh  work  of  the 
Divine  Artist,  her  slender  fingers  folding  close  above  her  breast  the  shining 
robes  of  innocence  and  truth. 

"  Neria  in  a  fashionable  assembly  !  "  said  Mr.  Vaughn,  in  reply  to  his  broth- 
er-in-law's urgent  advocacy  of  Claudia's  plan.  "  Why  it  would  be  the  Holy 
Grail  upon  the  supper  table  of  a  danseuse ;  it  would  be  both  a  desecration  and 
an  incongruity." 

"As  for  the  desecration,  my  dear  fellow,  we  won't  argue  the  point,"  said  Mr. 
Murray,  taking  snuff.  "  And  as  for  the  incongruity,  I  must  say  that  to  be  in- 
congruous with  the  elements  of  a  fashionable  assembly,  is,  in  my  eyes,  a  very 
questionable  virtue  in  a  young  lady." 

"  Neria's  manners  are  above  conventionality,"  said  Mr.  Vaughn,  decisively. 

"That  is  impossible.  Conventionality  is  the  religion,  the  morale  of  society 
— there  is  nothing  above  it ;  to  be  outside  of  it,  is  to  be  beneath  it,"  retorted 
Murray,  sublime  in  his  faith. 

But  Vaughn,  smiling,  put  the  question  by,  and  said, 

"  I  suppose  both  Neria  and  Francia  must  mix  in  society  at  some  time,  but  I 
confess  I  dread  to  see  their  country  freshness  wither  in  its  atmosphere,  and  my 
violet  and  wild  rose  come  back  to  me  as  hot-house  flowers,  all  properly  labelled 
and  trained,  but  with  neither  perfume  nor  strength  left  in  them." 

"Come  back  to  you  ?  No,  but  I  shall  insist  upon  your  taking^up  your  quar- 
ters with  me,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  hospitably.  "There  are  Fergus  and  I  left  by 
Claudia's  marriage  to  keep  bachelor's  hall  together,  and  we  need  just  such  an  old 
traveller  as  yourself  to'  come  and  show  us  how  to  manage.  You  should  see 
me  attempt  to  pour  out  tea,  and  Fergus  boggle  at  cutting  a  pudding.  Then 
you  can  keep  watch  over  your  daughter  and  your — ward,  do  you  call  her? 
and  snatch  them  away  from  the  naughty  world  at  the  precise  moment  when  the 
polish  is  obtained,  without  the  waste  of  a  single  particle  of  the  gem.  Will  you 
come  ?  " 

"Thank  you,  yes,"  said  Vaughn,  heartily.  "And  I  %vill  confess  that  with 
Claudia  as  chaperon,  and  two  utterly  inexperienced  girls  as  debutantes,  I  think 
it  will  be  qnite  as  well  for  me  to  be  at  hand." 

"  Claudia  is  a  sensible  young  woman,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  complacently,  "  and 


CIPHER.  67 

will,  I  dare  say,  before  the  season  is  over,  marry  Francia  as  handsomely  as  she 
has  married  herself." 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  ejaculated  Vaughn,  adding  with  a  smile, 
"But why  only  Francia,  why  is  she  not  also  to  marry  Neria?" 
"  Because,  retorted  Murray,  quietly,  "the  very  pith  of  your  wish  to  come  up 
to  town  is  to  see  that  she  does  not.     You  are  resolved  to  marry  Neria  your- 
self." 

'  Vaughn  started  from  his  seat,  and  stood  for  several  moments  looking  out  of 
the  window,  then,  resuming  his  chair,  fixed  his  eyes  upon  those  of  his  brother- 
in-law,  saying,  quietly, 

"  It  is  only  now  that  I  have  resolved  it." 

"  Consciously,  yes.  Unconsciously  you  resolved  it  long  ago,"  insisted  Mur- 
ray ;  and  Vaughn,  searching  his  own  heart  for  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  forgot 
to  answer  it. 

In  another  week,  Bonniemeer  was  deserted,  and  left  in  charge  of  Mrs.  Rhee, 
who,  not  having  as  yet  determined  upon  her  future  course  in  life,  was  very  will- 
ing to  remain  in  her  old  home  until  she  should  do  so. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"BRONZE-COLOR:  A  GREYISH-YELLOW." — Nicholson. 

"  CARDS  for  a  ball,  a  fancy  ball,  a  masked  ball,  mes  filles ! "  proclaimed 
Mrs.  Livingstone,  taking  three  envelopes  from  the  table  and  tearing  them  open, 
as  she  and  her  guests  entered  the  drawing-room,  after  their  morning  drive. 

"  How  perfectly  splendid  !  What  a  magnificent  idea !  O,  Claudia,  what 
shall  I  wear  ? "  exclaimed  Francia,  bounding  up  from  the  sofa,  where  she  had 
sunk,  and  quite  forgetting  her  fatigue. 

"The  idea  of  disposing  of  such  a  question  in  a  breath  ! "  retorted  Claudia. 
"  Why,  we  shall  discuss  it  all  the  rest  of  to-day  and  all  to-morrow,  and  shall 
quarrel  like  the  Three  Furies  before  we  are  done  with  it.  A  proper  costume 
for  a  fancy  ball  is  a  serious  question,  petite" 

"  The  more  reason  why  we  should  begin  to  discuss  it  at  once,"  exclaimed 
Francia.  "  Neria,  what  are  your  most  obvious  sentiments  upon  the  subject  ? " 

"  Of  costume  ?  "  asked  Neria,  with  her  not  unusual  look  of  wistful  perplexity  ; 
"  I  have  none  at  all." 

"  As  badly  off  as  the  old  dominie,  who  pathetically  remarked  :  '  Locke  says 
the  human  mind  is  never  entirely  void  of  ideas  ;  but  I  have  been  conscious  of 
long  intervals  of  time  in  which  my  mind  contained  absolutely  no  ideas  what- 
ever,' "  suggested  Claudia. 

"  I  think  I  will  be  a  gypsy,"  said  Francia.  dubiously. 

"  I  think  you  will  nothing  of  the  sort,"  continued  her  cousin.  "  Wait  till  to- 
morrow, and  I  will  think  about  you.  At  present,  I  have  an  idea  with  which  to 
furnish  poor  Neria's  empty  mind.  Neria,  attention  !  You  are  Undine.  You 
will  be  dressed  in  a  robe  of  sea-green  gossamer  over  green  satin,  which  will  spar- 
kle through  it  just  like  the  light  in  a  wave.  You  will  have  your  golden  hair  all 
down  your  back,  and  be  crowned  with  water-lilies,  and  wear  pearls  upon  your 
neck  and  arms.  In  your  hand  you  will  carry  the  chaplet  of  red  and  white 
coral  that  Undine  drew  from  the  depths  of  the  river  to  give  to  Bertha." 


68  CIPHER. 

"  Beautiful !  There  couldn't  be  anything  better  suited  to  Neria.  Your  idea 
is  an  inspiration,  Claudia,"  exclaimed  Francia ;  but  Neria  shivered. 

"  Undine  is  an  ominous  character,"  said  she. 

"  Don't  be  afraid.  There  is  no  Bertha  in  the  case,  dear,"  returned  Claudia, 
with  a  significant  smile. 

"Nor  any  knight  Huldbrand,  either,"  added  Francia. 

"  But  to  call  myself  Undine  is  to  invite  both,"  said  Neria,  smiling. 

"And  if  they  come,  my  dear,  I  hope  you  will  prove  the  superiority  of  a  wo- 
man over  a  mermaid  by  the  manner  in  which  you  secure  Huldbrand  and  circum- 
vent Bertha.  Undine  behaved  like  a  fool,"  remarked  Claudia. 

"  And  yet  like  a  woman.  It  would  be  so  much  easier  to  quietly  let  one's 
heart  break,  than  to  plot  and  labor  to  retain  a  love  that  wished  to  escape,"  said 
Neria,  softly. 

"  Love  !  That  is  as  it  may  be,"  retorted  Claudia ;  "  But  do  you  imagine  any 
woman  with  the  spirit  of  a  canary-bird  would  stand  by  and  see  another  woman 
steal  away  the  man  who  had  once  vowed  constancy  to  her,  and  never  make  an 
effort  to  reclaim  him  ?  Why,  I  would  kill  such  a  woman,  though  the  man  were 
one  I  never  cared  to  see  again." 

"  Dr.  Lutrell,"  said  the  servant,  opening  the  door  of  the  drawing-room. 

A  gentleman  upon  the  threshold  bowed  profoundly,  and  advanced  into  the 
room. 

Claudia,  on  hearing  the  name,  had  half  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  started 
from  her  chair.  Instantly  recovering  herself,  however,  she  restrained  every 
symptom  of  emotion  except  the  deep  color  that  flushed  her  face,  and,  advancing 
a  few  steps  toward  her  guest,  extended  her  hand,  saying,  with  a  smile,  courteous 
even  if  artificial : 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,  Dr. 'Lutrell,  and  also  to  hear  such  pleasant 
things  of  you." 

"  Thank  you.  I  did  not  know  that  my  modest  nuptials  would  make  sufficient 
impression  to  be  remembered  after  the  brilliant  wedding  that  made  Mr.  Living- 
stone the  happiest  of  men  and  an  object  of  envy  to  all  the  rest  of  us.  Accept, 
in  turn,  my  congratulations  and  good  wishes." 

A  fine  tone  of  sarcasm  rang  through  the  careful  modulations  of  his  voice, 
and  was  caught  by  Neria's  sensitive  ear.  She  turned  to  examine  more  particu- 
larly this  new  guest,  of  whom  she  had  never  heard. 

A  slight  and  elegant  figure,  small  hands  and  feet,  a  perfect  toilet — all  this 
was  well ;  but  at  the  face  Neria  paused,  and  finally  suspended  judgment.  Either 
it  was  very  handsome  or  utterly  repulsive,  and  for  the  moment  she  was  unable  to 
determine  which.  The  clear-cut  and  regular  features  were  almost  faultless,  the 
dark  hair  suited  well  with  the  mat  complexion  ;  the  frequent  smile  displayed  ex- 
quisite teeth,  but  the  eyes — what  was  there  in  those  furtive  eyes  that  made  Neria 
shrink  from  their  passing  glance  and  shiver  as  she  felt  them  again  resting  upon 
her  ?  The  color  was  peculiar  and  indescribable,  unless,  perhaps,  one  named  it 
yellowish-bronze ;  but  the  expression  was  something  more  than  peculiar,  and 
suggested  to  Neria  vague  ideas  of  hungry  creatures  lying  ambushed  for  their 
prey,  of  serpents  sleeping  in  deep  jungle  grass,  of  a  Thug  waiting  patiently  for 
hours  behind  his  palm  tree,  while  far  down  the  valley  the  doomed  victim  comes 
riding  on,  his  eyes  filled  with  memories  of  home  and  love,  a  smile  upon  his  lips, 
and  hope  whispering  at  his  heart. 


CIPHER.  69 

"  Girls,  let  me  present  Dr.  Lutrell.  Miss  Vaughn,  Dr.  Lutrell,  and  Miss 
Francia  Vaughn." 

Francia  bowed  with  her  usual  smiling  grace,  and  Neria,  with  an  effort,  raised 
her  eyes  once  more  to  those  so  steadily  bent  upon  her.  She  was  glad  when  she 
had  done  so,  for  in  this  direct  gaze  she  determined  that,  after  all,  there  was 
nothing  so  peculiar  about  these  eyes,  except,  perhaps,  the  color  ;  and  with  a  little 
feeling  of  self-reproach  for  her  first  impression,  she  exerted  herself  to  answer, 
with  sufficient  courtesy,  the  enquiries  and  remarks  addressed  to  her. 

"  We  were  talking  of  Mrs.  Minturn's  fancy  ball,"  said  Claudia,  presently. 
"  You  will  be  there  ?  " 

"We  have  cards,  but  I  had  not  thought  of  going,"  said  Doctor  Lutrell.  "To 
select  a  character  for  a  fancy  ball  you  must  commit  either  a  stupidity  or  an  in- 
discretion. Either  you  assume  a  disguise  utterly  incongruous  with  your  person- 
ality, and  so,  utterly  wearisome,  or  you  select  one  which  betrays  to  the  whole 
world  your  own  estimate  of  yourself,  and  so  give  Mrs.  Grundy  a  rich  opportunity 
for  the  good-natured  little  remarks  in  which  she  delights." 

"  I  don't  think  people  in  general  go  so  far  as  to  measure  the  masker's  own 
character  against  that  which  he  assumes,"  said  Claudia.  "  Most  people  don't 
think  at  all,  and  of  those  who  do,  the  majority  are  persons  who  will,  at  any  rate, 
be  malicious.  We  are  all  fools  or  knaves." 

The  two  young  girls  turned  startled  eyes  upon  their  cousin,  then  Francia 
laughed,  and  even  Neria's  face  swept  a  tide  of  color,  showing  that  the  deep 
fountain  of  her  emotions  was  touched. 

Dr.  LutrelPs  eyes  flashed  across  the  face  of  either,  read  them  more  than 
either  knew,  and  came  back  to  rest  upon  Claudia's  with  a  meaning  glance,  which 
she  read  and  recklessly  answered. 

"  O,  these  girls  have  come  to  me  to  learn  society  ;  you  would  not  have  me 
turn  out  the  pretty  lambs  to  the  wolves  without  warning  them,  as  far  as  I  may, 
of  the  style  of  creature  they  are  going  among." 

Dr.  Lutrell  turned  gaily  toward  the  couch  where  Neria  and  Francia  sat  to- 
gether. 

"  Don't  believe  a  word  she  says,  young  ladies.  Society,  especially  in  this 
city,  is  an  assemblage  of  all  that  is  great,  wise,  good  and  beautiful  in  the  world. 
Every  one  is  amiable,  every  one  is  intelligent,  every  one  speaks  and  lives  the 
exact  truth.  Come  among  us  and  see  !  Mrs.  Livingstone  knows  all  this  as 
well  as  I  ;  but  to-day  she  has  the  headache,  or  a  dyspepsia,  or  was  out  too  late 
last  night." 

He  rose  and  bowed  as  he  spoke,  and  passed  down  the  long  drawing-room. 
His  hostess  accompanied  him  a  few  steps,  and  said  in  a  low  voice, 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  deceive  them  in  what  they  will  so  soon  learn  for  them- 
selves ? " 

"  Why  do  you  put  your  vase  of  wild  flowers  in  the  shade,  instead  of  in  the 
sun  ?  "  asked  the  guest,  and  went  on  his  way  with  a  smile  in  his  tigerish  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

TRANSPARENT   MASKS. 

A  KNOT  of  young  men  in  various  costume  lounged  in  the  hall  of  Mrs. 
Minturn's  handsome  house,  and  discussed  the  masquers  who  passed 
before  them  into  the  drawing-room,  with  a  freedom  characteristic  of  their  condi- 
tion. Three  female  figures  descended  the  stairs,  and  were  joined  at  the  foot  by 
a  domino,  who  waited  to  escort  them. 

"A  Cleopatra !"  said  a  Charles  II.  among  the  flaneurs,  in  an  audible  voice, 
"  and  very  well  got  up,  too.  See  the  golden  asp  upon  her  right  arm,  and  the 
string  of  pearls  upon  her  left.  The  crown,  the  starry  veil,  the  royal  robes — all 
correct,  fair  sister,  but  tell  me,  is  it  Marc  Antony  to-day,  or  another  ?  " 

The  Cleopatra  thus  attacked  threw  an  angry  glance  upon  the  questioner, 
and  passed  quickly  on.  Nothing  daunted,  the  merry  monarch  continued  his  re- 
marks. 

"And  a  mermaid  ?  No — Undine,  by  the  string  of  coral,  but,"  in  a  lower 
voice,  "  I  had  not  supposed  any  woman  in  this  city  would  have  the  effrontery 
to  crown  herself  with  water-lilies  and  wear  pearls  for  her  only  ornament.  She 
must  be  very  new — or,  very  experienced.  Probably  the  latter,  for  the  innocence 
of  a  woman  of  the  world  is  a  great  deal  more  natural  than  nature.  Mais  voila  ! 
la  jolie  petite  marquise  /  See  the  ravishing  little  waist  displayed  by  the  long 
points  to  her  bodice,  and  the  coquetry  of  that  tiny  patch  just  in  the  dimple  of 
the  chin,  and  the  round  white  arms,  and  the  turn  of  the  neck  !  You  may  wait, 
my  friends,  for  whom  you  will — I  go  to  see  if  la  marquise  will  not  play  Louise 
de  Querouailles  to  my  Charles  II.,  for  an  hour,  at  least." 

As  the  gay  speaker  separated  himself  from  his  comrades,  and  followed  the 
object  of  his  admiration  into  the  drawing-room,  he  was  joined  by  Mephistoph- 
eles,  who  had  stood  silently  listening  to  his  remarks,  and  who  now  said,  as  he 
passed  his  arm  through  that  of  the  king, 


CIPHER.  71 

"Youi  majesty  and  I  are  old  friends,  and  should  hunt  in  couples." 

"The  deuce  we  are  ! "  retorted  Charles,  eyeing  his  companion  askance. 

"Just  what  I  remarked,  and  a  very  pretty  deuce  we  make  ;  deuce-ace,  if  you 
will,  for  unlike  most  couples,  we  are  two  in  one,  or  one  in  two,  as  you  please." 

"  Go  look  for  your  Faust,  I  will  none  of  you — my  familiar  never  showed 
himself  in  company,"  said  Charles,  shaking  off  the  grasp  of  his  companion. 

"  That  was  because  you  were  still  running  through  your  days  of  grace,"  re- 
torted Mephistopheles.  "  But  now  you  have  come  under  authority,  and  are 
only  out  on  leave  to-night.  It  is  I  who  am  king,  and — vivat  Rex" 

"  Tout  bien  !  Come,  then,  and  advise  me  how  to  penetrate  the  incognito  of 
the  little  marquise"  said  Charles,  recklessly. 

"  I  will  advise  you  to  let  her  alone,  or  at  any  rate  to  say  nothing  for  which 
you  will  be  sorry  when  you  meet  her  unmasked,"  said  his  companion,  signifi- 
cantly. "  Try  your  gallantries  on  the  Cleopatra  if  you  will  " — 

"  And  leave  la  marquise  to  you  !  Thank  you.  man  diable  /  I  am  a  wor- 
thier pupil  than  that.  Compare  notes  with  Cleopatra  yourself,  or  see  if  a  Becky 
Sharp  does  not  lurk  beneath  those  water-lilies  ;  but  'leave  my  love  to  me.'" 

The  party  had  by  this  time  reached  the  upper  end  of  the  long  rooms,  where 
stood  the  hostess  in  the  dress  of  Dame  Quickly,  but  without  mask.  As  each 
guest  bowed  before  her  he  presented  a  card  bearing  both  his  real  and  assumed 
title.  After  glancing  at  these,  Mrs.  Minturn  dropped  them  into  a  vase  zeal- 
ously guarded  by  a  roguish  Cupid,  who,  with  drawn  bow  and  warning  cry,  men- 
aced all  who  ventured  to  approach  too  near. 

After  a  few  words  of  compliment,  the  party  moved  on  to  make  room  for 
other  guests,  and  the  royal  Stuart  approached  the  Marquise  with  a  low  bow  and 
a  request  that  she  would  favor  him  with  her  hand  for  a  valse-quadrille  in  the  ad- 
joining ball-room. 

The  Marquise  hesitated,  but  after  glancing  at  Cleopatra,  who  nodded  assent, 
she  silently  accepted  the  proffered  arm. 

Mephistopheles,  at  the  same  moment,  addressed  to  Undine  a  request  to 
promenade  through  the  rooms  with  him,  offering  to  give  her  a  lesson  in  reading 
disguises  which  she  should  find  of  use  through  all  her  future  life. 

Cleopatra  motioned  her  to  accept,  and  herself  taking  the  arm  of  the  domino 
who  remained  in  attendance,  slowly  followed  for  a  few  steps,  and  then  said,  in  a 
low  voice : 

"  Go,  now,  and  find  some  one  else.     I  will  take  care  of  myself." 

"  All,  right,  my  lady,"  replied  Mr.  Livingstone's  thick  voice  ;  "  only  don't  let 
the  men  be  too  free.  They'll  say  things  from  behind  their  masks  that  they 
wouldn't  dare  to  say  without  them." 

"Not  to  me,"  said  Cleopatra,  haughtily,  and  each  went  a  separate  way. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A     DEUX     TEMPS. 

In  the  ball-room  the  frenzy  of  the  galop  had  subsided  into  the  passionate 
tenderness  of  the  waltz,  and  the  band,  led  by  a  musician,  rendered,  with  such 
fidelity  and  abandon,  the  wild  heart-break  of  the  Sophia  waltzes,  that  one  in- 
stinctively feared  to  see  the  whole  place  a  necropolis  cf  swooning  and  dying 
princesses. 


72  CIPHER. 

Francia,  in  her  charming  costume,  a  la  Pompadour,  her  supple  waist  encir- 
cled by  the  arm  of  the  King  Charles,  his  breath  upon  her  cheek,  her  right  hand 
pressed  close  to  his  heart,  floated  round  and  round  the  room  in  a  strange  ec- 
stacy,  wondering  how  she  had  lived  so  long  and  never  before  felt  the  joy  of  life  ; 
wondering,  too,  at  the  passionate  impulse  of  tears  that  almost  suffocated  her. 

The  music  ceased  with  a  long,  piercing  strain,  that  might  have  been  the  wail 
of  the  lover  as  his  royal  mistress  fell  dead  at  his  feet,  and  Francia,  blind  and 
breathless,  allowed  her  partner  to  support  her  for  a  moment  longer  in  the  em- 
brace which  we  all  consider  so  eminently  proper  while  the  motion  of  the  dance 
continues — so  very  shocking  a  few  minutes  later. 

"  I  never  shall  forget  this  waltz,"  murmured  King  Charles. 

"Nor  I,  for  I  never,  enjoyed  one  half  so  much,"  said  Francia,  guilelessly ; 
and  behind  his  mask  the  merry  monarch  smiled  a  meaning  smile. 

"  Let  us  promenade  a  little,"  said  he,  and  led  the  way  to  the  cool  shadow  of 
the  conservatory. 

"Do  you  believe  in  magnetism,  Marquise  ?"  asked  he,  seating  his  compan- 
ion upon  an  ottoman  and  throwing  himself  upon  a  footstool  at  her  side. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said  Francia,  wonderingly. 

"  Then  take  your  first  lesson  of  me,  ma  belle.  It  was  a  powerful  magnetism 
that  drew  me  to  you  the  first  moment  my  eyes  rested  upon  you  ;  it  is  that  same 
magnetism  that  made  our  waltz  to  me  the  very  culmination  of  my  life ;  and,  tell 
me,  Marquise,  may  I  be  very  frank,  very  bold  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Francia. 

"It  was  that  same  magnetism  that  wrought  upon  you  when  you  said  you 
never  had  enjoyed  a  dance  so  much." 

He  took  in  his  the  soft,  white  hand  that  Francia  had  nervously  ungloved 
when  she  first  sat  down. 

"  I  must  see  your  face,  I  must  hear  your  name,  here  and  now,"  murmured 
he,  half  beseechingly,  half  imperiously. 

The  little  hand  grew  cold,  and  trembled  in  his  grasp,  but  it  was  not  with- 
drawn, nor  did  the  bewildered  girl  resist,  as  with  a  quick  movement  her  com- 
panion untied  the  ribbon  confining  her  mask,  and  suffered  it  to  drop  into  her 
lap. 

The  face  thus  disclosed  was  indeed  one  worthy  of  a  monarch's  admiration  ; 
and  just  now,  with  cheeks  and  lips  at  their  brightest,  eyes  at  their  bluest, 
and  the  perfect  shape  of  the  low  white  forehead  displayed  by  the  coquettish 
backward  roll  of  the  hair  glittering  with  golden  powder,  Francia's  fresh  beauty 
was  so  bewildering  that  it  hardly  seemed  an  extravagance  for  her  masked  ad- 
mirer to  murmur, 

"  O,  that  I  were  indeed  a  king,  that  I  might,  with  some  faint  hope  of  success, 
offer  my  throne  to  the  Queen  of  Love  and  Beauty  !  " 

Francia's  head  drooped  lower  and  lower,  while  the  carnation  deepened  on 
her  cheeks,  and  even  "  the  nape  of  her  white  neck  flushed  rosy  red,"  but,  alas  ! 
not  "  with  indignation." 

His  bold  eyes  devouring  her  beauty,  Charles  grasped  again  the  hand  she 
had  withdrawn,  and  murmured, 

"  Tell  me  what  to  call  you,  my  queen." 

A  sharp  step  rang  through  the  ante-room  dividing  the  conservatory  from 
the  other  apartments,  and  Francia,  snatching  away  her  hand,  hurriedly  replaced 


JJratvn  by  Sot  Ey  tinge. 


KING)  CHARLES  AND  THE  MARQUISE.— 


CIPHER.  73 

her  mask.  It  was  not  yet  tied  when  a  knight  in  golden  armor  stood  before 
her. 

"Excuse  me,  sir,"  said  he,  haughtily,  to  King  Charles,  who  had  risen  to  his 
feet ;  "  but  this  young  lady  is  a  relative  of  mine,  and  I  am  desired  by  her  friends 
to  conduct  her  to  them." 

"  If  the  young  lady  desires  to  exchange  my  company  for  yours,  I  shall  of 
course  submit  to  her  wishes,  otherwise  I  shall  claim  my  privilege  of  leaving  her 
under  charge  of  the  lady  from  whose  side  I  took  her,"  retorted  the  quasi  mon- 
arch, with  right  kingly  imperiousness. 

The  knight  hesitated  an  instant,  then  turned  his  back  upon  his  rival,  and 
said  in  a  low  voice, 

"  Francia,  come  with  me." 

The  girl  arose,  but  before  she  could  accept  the  arm  offered  her  by  the  knight, 
her  late  .partner  interposed, 

"  May  I  not  have  the  usual  privilege  of  a  gentleman  who  has  been  honored 
with  a  lady's  hand  in  the  dance,  and  escort  you  to  your  chaperone  f  ".  asked  he, 
in  a  voice  so  exceedingly  guarded  as  to  betray  the  irritation  of  his  feelings. 

Francia  hesitated,  half-turned  toward  the  last  speaker,  then  again  to  the 
knight,  and  whispered, 

"  I  will  go  directly  to  Claudia,  Fergus,  and  you  can  come,  too." 

"  You  will  do  as  you  choose,"  was  the  stern  reply  ;  and  Francia,  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  took  the  arm  persistently  offered  by  her  other  cavalier,  and 
walked  away  in  a  very  different  mood  from  that  of  a  few  moments  before. 

"  May  I  ask  the  name  of  that  young  man  ?  "  inquired  King  Charles,  still  in 
the  tone  of  elaborate  courtesy,  so  significant  to  a  practised  ear. 

"  He  is  my  cousin,"  faltered  Francia,  instinctively  answering  the  question  her 
companion  had  not  chosen  to  ask. 

"  Cousins  have  strange  privileges,  it  appears  to  me,"  said  the  King.  "  Sweet 
ones,  too,  sometimes,  if  I  am  rightly  informed." 

"  Fergus  has  always  been  like  a  brother  to  me,"  murmured  Francia. 

"  Very  like  a  brother,  as  I  have  found  them  behind  the  scenes,"  said  her 
companion.  "  But  may  I  not  resume  the  inquiry  you  were  about  to  answer 
when  this  peremptory  cousin-brother  of  yours  interrupted  us  ? " 

"  My  name  ?     Mrs.  Minturn  can  tell  you.     Ah,  here  is  Neria." 

"  The  Undine  ?  But  there  is  Cleopatra  in  the  next  room,  with  a  crowd  of 
courtiers  about  her.  Will  you  go  to  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  please." 

And  as  she  answered,  the  poor  little  marquise  cast  a  timid  look  over  her 
shoulder  at  the  stately  form  of  the  golden  knight  who  now  stood  in  the  door- 
way of  the  ball-room  watching  her  movements. 

"  Monsieur  le  cousin  appears  to  doubt  either  your  word  or  my  honor,"  said 
King  Charles,  bitterly,  as  he  followed  her  eyes. 

Francia  made  no  reply,  but  hurried  on,  and  in  another  moment  stood  beside 
Claudia,  who  received  her  with  a  little  nod,  and  went  on  talking  to  the  three 
gentlemen,  who  all  claimed  her  attention  at  the  same  moment. 

King  Charles,  with  a  low  bow  and  a  murmured  word  of  thanks  left  her  here, 
and  went  to  look  for  Mrs.  Minturn,  with  whom  he  was  an  especial  favorite. 

While  Cleopatra  and  her  courtiers  flashed  their  javelins  of  wit  and  badinage 
over  her  head,  Francia  remained  for  some  moments  in  a  bewildered  reverie, 
through  which  the  waltz,  the  conservatory,  the  strange  bold  words  of  her  late 


74  CIPHER. 

partner,  and  the  displeasure  of  her  cousin  mingled  confusedly.     Recovering  a 
little,  she  raised  her  eyes,  and  timidly  explored  the  room  for  Fergus. 

He  was  promenading  with  an  elegant  Diana  upon  his  arm,  and  although  he 
passed  and  repassed  the  spot  where  Francia  stood,  never  by  any  chance  turned 
his  head  toward  her. 

"  How  vexed  he  is,  and  how  much  I  shall  have  to  say  before  he  will  be  kind 
again,"  thought  Francia,  and  over  the  glitter  of  the  ball-room  and  the  flush  of 
her  innocent  gayety  came  a  dark  mist,  a  chill,  like  that  when  upon  a  summer's 
afternoon,  great  white  clouds  of  fog  come  rolling  over  the  sea  and  wrap  earth 
and  sky  in  their  mantle  of  bleak  despondency. 

She  sighed  heavily,  and  the  domino  who,  although  dismissed  by  Cleopatra  in 
the  first  of  the  evening,  had  soon  returned  to  hover  near  her,  offered  his  arm. 

"  Tiresome,  ain't  it,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice  to  the  drooping  little  marquise 
"  Never  mind,  they'll  have  supper  in  a  few  minutes,  and  that  will  pay  for  all. 
If  it  was'n't  for  the  suppers  I  couldn't  stand  this  sort  of  life." 

.  "  I  was  not  tired  until  just  now,"  said  Francia,  accepting  the  proffered  sup- 
port. 

Neria  approached  with  Mephistopheles. 

"  And  here  we  come,"  said  he,  "  to  a  group  whose  disguises  I  will  not 
venture  to  penetrate,  and  even  could  I  do  so,  I  shrewdly  suspect  you  are  better 
able  to  describe  to  me  than  I  to  you  the  graces  and  virtues  adorning  it." 

"  I  hope  you  have  been  as  correct  in  all  your  intimations  as  in  this,"  said 
Neria,  playfully. 

"  Do  not  doubt  it,  and  I  am  glad  to  have  been  able  to  illustrate  to  you  my 
remark  of  a  previous  occasion,  that  there  are,  after  all,  very  few  wolves  in  this 
so  much  maligned  society  of  ours." 

The  latter  part  of  the  remark  reached  the  ear  of  Cleopatra,  who  turned 
sharply  round — 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,"  said  she,  quickly. 

"  Great  queen,  who  can  withstand  your  penetration.  It  is  the  humblest  of 
your  slaves,"  said  Mephistopheles. 

•'  Malice  avers  that  Lucifer  was  an  ally  of  yours  in  the  old  tiires,  and,  accord- 
ing to  his  wont,  deserted  you  at  the  last,"  suggested  one  of  the  courtiers. 

"Malice  was,  then,  as  stupid  as  she  generally  is,"  said  Mephistopheles, 
coolly  ;  "  for  it  was  Cleopatra  who  deserted  me." 

A  swift  glance  passed  between  the  Queen  and  the  speaker,  and  each  turned 
to  another  companion.  At  this  moment  Mrs.  Minturn  approached  on  the  arm 
of  King  Charles. 

"Pardon  the  mauvais gout  of  an  introduction  en  masque"  said  she,  aside  to 
Claudia;  "and  allow  me  to  present  my  cousin,  Rafe  Chilton.  He  begs  your 
permission  to  take  Miss  Vaughn  down  to  supper." 

"  Certainly  ;  I  will  let  her  understand  that  I  sanction  the  movement,  although 
your  drawing-room  is  sufficient  guarantee  for  any  of  your  guests,"  replied  Clau- 
dia, in  the  same  tone,  and  Mrs.  Minturn  rejoined  aloud, 

"  Will  your  majesty  permit  me  to  introduce  a  brother  monarch,  hight  Charles 
of  England." 

Cleopatra,  with  a  regal  inclination  of  the  head,  extended  her  hand,  which 
Charles  made  a  feint  of  raising  to  his  lips  As  he  lifted  his  head  their  eyes  met, 
ajid  while  Claudia  remembered  the  saucy  query,  "  Is  it  Marc  Antony  or  another, 


CIPHER.  75 

to-day  ?  "  which  had  intercepted  her  entrance  to  the  drawing-room,  Charles  saw 
that  she  remembered  it. 

"  Generosity  is  a  royal  prerogative,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  So  your  majesty  found  it  when  Louis  Quatorze  filled  your  exchequer  with 
French  gold,"  retorted  Cleopatra,  in  the  same  voice. 

Charles  laughed. 

"  Let  us  forget  all  that  we  should  blush  for  in  our  former  lives,"  said  he,  "and 
begin  our  acquaintance  from  the  present  moment." 

"  Agreed  ;  and  unless  we  are  better  than  most  of  the  people  about  us,  we 
shall,  in  the  next  hour,  have  accumulated  a  new  stock  of  blushing  matter,  and 
shall  have  to  begin  over  again,"  said  the  Queen. 

"  That  can  hardly  be,  for  Cleopatra  of  to-day  has  preserved  all  the  grace 
and  none  of  the  foibles  of  her  prototype,"  said  Charles,  courteously. 

"  And  the  merry  monarch  of  England  has  certainly  freed  himself  from  the 
reproach  of  having 

Never  said  a  foolish  thing, 

replied  Cleopatra. 

"  Do  not  force  him  to  believe,  .also,  that  he  has  '  never  done  a  wise  one  '  in 
seeking  the  honor  of  an  introduction  to  your  majesty,"  suggested  Charles,  with 
a  royal  audacity  which  did  not  injure  him  in  the  estimation  of  the  lady  he  ad- 
dressed. 

" Nous  verrons"  said  she,  laughing. 

"  May  I  ask  your  majesty  to  present  me  to  the  young  lady^at  your  side,  and 
allow  me  to  escort  her  to  the  supper-room  ? "  pursued  the  King,  with  easy 
grace. 

"  Mademoiselle,  allow  me  to  present  King  Charles  the  Second,  of  England, 
a  monarch  whose  reputation  is  his  best  introduction,"  said  Claudia,  turning  to 
Francia,  who  bowed  without  speaking. 

"  A  breach  of  faith,  royal  sister.  We  had  agreed  to  leave  our  former  reputa- 
tions out  of  the  question,"  said  Charles,  meaningly ;  and  Cleopatra,  slightly 
abashed,  made  no  retort. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CHEZ  MADAME  LIVINGSTONE. 

THE  world  had  been  informed  that  it  would  find  Mrs.  Livingstone  "  at  home 
on  Thursdays,"  and  on  the  first  recurrence  of  that  day,  after  the  fancy  party,  we 
shall  see  collected  in  her  drawing-room  nearly  all  the  persons  to  whom  this  his- 
tory has  introduced  us. 

Mr.  Vaughn  had  looked  in,  and  without  in  the  least  meaning  to  do  so, 
dwarfed  the  younger  men  by  the  polished  ease  of  his  manner,  his  dignity,  and 
the  knowledge  of  the  world  for  which  he  was  remarkable. 

Fergus,  seated  near  the  elegant  Miss  Winchendon,  was  evoking  that  young 
lady's  most  gracious  smiles,  and  rewarding  them  with  a  satirical  dissection  of 
their  absent  friends,  mingled  with  covert  compliments  to  herself. 

Francia,  who  had  not  seen  her  cousin  since  th"e  ball,  watched  this  by-play 
from  the  corner  of  her  eye,  and  grew  more  and  more  incoherent  in  her  answers 
to  the  fashionable  gossip  with  which  Mrs.  Minturn  kindly  tried  to  entertain  her. 
But  as  that  lady  rose  to  go,  the  drawing-room  door  was  thrown  open  to  admif 


76  CIPHER. 

Dr.  Luttrell  and  Mr.  Chilton  ;  and  as  Francia  noted  the  sudden  frown  clouding 
her  cousin's  face,  a  wicked  impulse  to  brave  the  anger  she  despaired  of  soften- 
ing, seized  upon  her,  and  she  returned  Mr.  Chilton's  bow  with  a  smile  that  at 
once  brought  that  young  gentleman  to  her  side. 

Dr.  Luttrell  paused  beside  his  hostess,  who  was,  for  the  moment,  disengaged. 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Luttrell  ?  "  asked  Claudia. 

"  Where  I  am  not,"  returned  the  husband,  concisely. 

"  And  always  ?  " 

"  When  it  can  be  so  arranged." 

"  Your  honeymoon  closed  yesterday,"  said  Claudia,  with  a  bitter-sweet 
smile. 

"  A  thing  without  beginning  is  also  without  end,"  retorted  her  guest,  coldly. 

"  As,  for  example,  the  love  a  man  professes  to  the  woman  he  wishes  to 
marry,"  suggested  Mrs.  Livingstone. 

"  I  have,  in  my  life,  professed  love  to  only  one  woman,  and  she — made  a 
worthier  choice,"  said  Luttrell,  suffering  his  eyes  to  rest,  with  quiet  scorn,  upon 
the  stout  figure  of  Mr.  Livingstone,  who  stood,  with  his  hands  beneath  his  coat- 
tails,  upon  the  hearth-rug,  discussing  politics  with  Mr.  Murray. 

Claudia  winced  a  little,  but  recovered  herself  cleverly.  "  Ah  !  "  said  she, 
nonchalantly.  "  Who  would  suspect  you  of  a  petite  histoire?  You  shall  tell  it 
to  me  some  day.  Just  now  I  must  go  and  talk  to  Mrs.  Burton  ;  and  you,  let  me 
see  ? — you  may  bring  Neria  and  the  musician  together,  and  get  them  into  a 
conversation  about  art.  They  are  counterparts  and  ought  to  find  it  out." 

She  glided  away  as  she  spoke,  and  seated  herself  to  listen,  with  smiling  in- 
terest, to  Mrs.  Burton's  narrative  of  her  struggles  with  her  last  cook,  until  she 
could  adroitly  contrive  to  entrap  another  matron  into  the  conversation  and 
herself  withdraw  imperceptibly  to  more  congenial  companionship. 

Dr.  Luttrell  watched  her,  with  a  singular  expression  in  his  tawny  eyes,  not 
unlike  a  tiger,  who,  from  the  jungle,  watches  a  stately  doe  surrounded  by  her 
courtiers,  and  says  in  his  heart, 

Theirs  to-day,  mine  to-morrow,  if  I  will. 

Then  he  turned  to  look  for  Neria  and  the  musician,  who  sat  a  little  way 
from  each  other  ;  she  listening  with  grave  attention  to  the  chat  between  Fergus 
and  the  brilliant  belle,  he  apparently  absorbed  in  reverie. 

Dr.  Luttrell  placed  himself  between  them  and  began  to  talk  opera. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"RIXiE,   PAX,   ET — " 

THE  last  guest  departed,  and  as  the  door  closed  behind  her,  Fergus  turned 
to  Neria,  saying : 

"Now,  Neria,  give  me  a  little  real  music  after  the  miserable  tinkling  of  that 
• — Percy  do  they  call  him  ?  I  am  perfectly  sick  with  it." 

"  Then  I  am  quite  sure  I  could  not  please  you,  monsieur,"  said  Neria,  gaily  ; 
"  and  I  must  go  directly  to  my  room  and  dress  for  our  drive.  Are  you  coming, 
Francia  ?  " 

"  In  a  minute,"  replied  that  young  lady,  affecting  to  be  busy  in  arranging 


CIPHER.  77 

some  flowers  upon  the  table.  Neria  left  the  room,  and  Fergus,  with  an  ab- 
stracted look,  was  following  her,  when  a  timid  voice  recalled  him. 

"  Did  you  see  this  rose-camelia,  Fergus  ?  " 

"  No,  is  it  remarkable  ?  "  asked  the  young  man,  coming  slowly  toward  the 
table. 

"  I  don't  know.     It  is  very  pretty." 

"  I  see.     Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  ?  " 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  drive  with  us  ?  " 

"  Not  to-day." 

"  You  have  not  been  here  lately." 

"  I  am  flattered  that  you  should  notice  my  movements  so  closely.' 

Francia  blushed  scarlet,  and  bent  lower  over  the  flowers. 

"  You  have  not  been  without  company,  however,"  pursued  her  cousin,  "  I 
see  that  Mr.  Chilton  has  established  himself  here  upon  a  very  familiar  footing. 
You  will  be  much  improved  by  such  association." 

"  O,  Fergus,  don't  speak  in  that  tone.     How  have  I  offended  you  ?  " 

"  Offended  me  ?  Not  at  all.  I  was  speaking  of  Mr.  Chilton  in  terms  of  the 
highest  commendation,  was  I  not  ?  " 

"  Please,  Fergus  !  Tell  me  what  I  have  done,  and  let  me  say  I  am  sorry, 
and  then  forgive  me." 

The  clasped  hands,  tender  blue  eyes  full  of  tears,  quivering  rosebud  lips  were 
very  pathetic,  and  a  half  smile  softened  the  stern  lines  of  Fergus's  mouth  ;  but 
he  said,  coldly  : 

"  I  have  no  right  to  be  offended  ;  but  I  will  own  I  was  rather  surprised  at  your 
conduct  the  other  night." 

"  What  conduct  ?  "  faltered  Francia. 

"  In  the  first  plaee,  dancing  round-dances  half  an  hour  with  the  same  part- 
ner, and  he  one  of  the  most  notorious  profligates  about  town ;  then  wandering 
off  into  the  conservatory  with  him,  allowing  him  to  unmask  you,  to  take  your 
hand,  to  say  I  don't  know  what  to  you.  I  did  not  try  to  listen,  although  I 
could  not  help  seeing.  Then,  when  I  came  to  extricate  you  from  your  ridicu- 
lous and  indecorous  position,  you  absolutely  refused  to  accept  my  guardianship, 
and  clung  -to  your  new  acquaintance  as  if  he  were  a  lover.  Afterward  you 
allowed  him  to  take  you  down  to  supper,  and  danced  with  him  again." 

"Only  a  cotillion,"  interposed  Francia. 

"You  danced  with  him — no  matter  what,"  pursued  Fergus,  severely.  "And 
BOW,  the  next  time  I  see  you,  this  fellow  is  at  your  side,  offering  his  insulting 
attentions  in  so  conspicuous  a  manner  that  every  person  who  goes  away  from 
here  to-day  will  have  a  sneer  for  you  the  next  time  your  name  is  mentioned 
in  their  company.  You  can  do  as  you  choose,  or  as  my  uncle  chooses,  I  sup- 
pose, but  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  say  that  I  can  give  neither  respect  nor  con- 
fidence to  a  young  lady,  who  deliberately  encourages  the  attentions  of  a  liber- 
tine like  Rafe  Chilton." 

"  If  Claudia  and  Mr.  Livingston  encourage  his  coming  to  the  house,  they 
cannot  believe  him  so  very  bad,"  said  Francia,  with  some  spirit. 

"  I  do  not  undertake  to  regulate  my  sister's  affairs,"  said  Fergus,  coldly ; 
"nor  do  I  wish  to  discuss  her  movements — they  do  not  concern  either  you  or 
me.  I  was  only  explaining  to  you  the  reason  of  the  change  in  my  manner, 
which  seemed  to  annoy  you." 


/8  CIPHER. 

"  I  was  not  annoyed,  Fergus,  I  was  grieved." 

The  young  man  trifled  a  moment  with  the  toys  upon  the  table,  and  then 
said,  reproachfully : 

"  You  do  not  find  Neria  running  into  such  follies,  although  she  has  the  same 
opportunities." 

"  Neria  isn't  so  gay — so — " 

"  So  thoughtless  as  you.  That  is  true  enough  ;  but  to  be  thoughtless  in 
these  matters  is  something  more  then  a  foible,  Francia.  It  is  to  estrange  your 
friends,  to  injure  your  own  prospects,  to  give  foul  tongues  an  opening  to  meddle 
with  your  name.  Mr.  Chilton's  acquaintanceship  is  enough  to  ruin  any  woman's 
reputation  ;  but  if  you  choose  to  cultivate  it,  of  course  it  is  no  affair  of  mine. 
Good  morning." 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Francia,  in  a  tone  as  cold  as  his  own,  and  with  spark- 
ling eyes  and  heightened  color,  she  walked  toward  the  window.  Fergus  went 
to  the  door,  but  his  gloves  still  lay  upon  the  table  where  he  had  placed  them 
while  speaking.  He  returned  for  them,  waited  to  put  them  on,  and  was  again 
moving  toward  the  door,  when  a  soft  voice  whispered  : 

"  Fergus ! " 

He  silently  turned  and  looked  toward  Francia.  Fluttering,  blushing,  tearful, 
she  glided  to  his  side,  and  sweetly  looked  into  his  face.  He  took  her  hand, 
whispering : 

"  What  is  it,  Franc  ?  " 

"  I  am  so  sorry.     I  won't  if  you  don't  want  me  to.     Please,  dear  Fergus  !  " 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  slender  waist,  he  laid  his  hand  beneath  her 
rounded  chin,  and  raising  the  rosy  face  that  fain  would  droop,  he  looked  deep, 
deep  into  the  blue  depths  of  her  innocent  eyes,  and  then — how  does  it  go  ? 

"  Rixce,  pax,  et " — what  comes  next  ?  • 

Fergus  stayed  to  dinner,  and  spent  the  evening.  When  Francia  went  to 
her  room  that  night,  she  stood  a  long  time  looking  from  the  window ;  and,  as 
she  turned  away,  murmured  half  aloud  :  "  But  he  is  my  cousin,  almost — just  like 
a  brother." 


CHAPTER   XV. 

CHECK   TO   THE   QUEEN. 

THE  winter  went  on,  and  went  by.  March  had  come,  with  its  chilling  winds 
and  cheering  sun,  its  raw  certainty  and  its  sweet  promise — like  a  hoydenish  girl 
of  thirteen,  whom  we  endure  and  even  admire,  in  faith  of  the  future. 

It  was  evening,  and  Mrs.  Livingstone's  drawing-rooms  were  moonily  lighted 
by  hanging  lamps  with  alabaster  shades.  In  the  boudoir  at  the  end  of  the  suite 
of  apartments  sat  the  lady  herself,  deep  in  a  game  of  chess  with  Dr.  Luttrell. 
In  the  next  room,  Francia,  nervous,  half-unwilling,  and  yet  not  quite  unpleased, 
listened  to  the  low-voiced  conversation  of  Mr.  Chilton,  while  the  master  of  the 
house,  dozing  in  an  arm-chair  near  at  hand,  played  propriety  to  the  tete-H-tete. 

In  the  drawing-room  beyond,  Neria,  at  the  piano,  softly  played  "  O  Bel 
Alma  ;  "  and  Percy,  standing  beside  her,  improvised  a  dreamy  accompaniment. 

But  the  story  that  the  musician  told,  the  question  that  he  asked,  and  the  ten- 
der, mournful  denial  that  Neria  returned  to  his  petition,  are  not  now  our  con« 


CIPHER. 


79 


cern.  These  are  of  the  secrets  that  the  angels  keep  and  men  do  but  guess. 
Let  us  rather  watch  the  far  from  angelic  game  so  skilfully  played  in  the  boudoir. 

"  Check  !  "  said  Dr.  Luttrell ;  and  Claudia,  who  had  been  dreaming  over  her 
game,  suddenly  found  both  king  and  queen  menaced  by  an  audacious  knight, 
who  had  quietly  approached,  under  cover  of  a  manoeuvre  for  the  capture  of  a 
pawn. 

"  U,  but  I  can't  lose  my  queen  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Livingstone,  examining 
the  situation  with  dismay. 

Dr.  Luttrell  silently  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  watched  her.  From  be- 
tween his  half-closed  eyelids  gleamed  strange  green  and  yellow  lights,  flashing, 
sparkling,  changing,  like  the  great  diamond  on  his  breast.  His  thin  lips  smiled ; 
but  it  was  not  a  smile  pleasant  to  look  upon. 

"  Can  you  save  her  ?  "  asked  he,  quietly,  when  Claudia  had  gone  over  every 
possible  combination  of  her  few  pieces  for  the  twentieth  time,  and  at  last  placed 
a  reluctant  finger  upon  the  king. 

"  No  ;  but  the  game  is  lost.     How  could  I  have  been  so  stupid  ?" 

"  '  Whom  the  gods  doom,'  etc. — it  was  fated  that  I  should  conquer,  and  it 
would  have  been  useless  for  you  to  resist,  had  you  been  ever  so  diligent  in  your 
efforts." 

"  You  are  a  fatalist,  then  ? " 

"  Are  not  you  ?  " 

"No,  I  will  not  give  up  my  free  will.  In  this  case,  if  I  had  chosen  to  attend 
to  my  game,  I  should  not  have  lost  it." 

"  It  was  fated  you  should  not  choose  to  attend  to  it.  It  is  very  easy  to  reason 
after  the  event." 

"  But,  warned  by  experience,  the  next  game  we  play  I  will  play  with  such 
care  as  to  thwart  fate,  if  she  has  decreed  another  stupidity  on  my  part." 

"  Then  you  will  again  be  the  servant  of  fate,  who  will  have  decreed  just  the 
pains  you  take  to  thwart  her." 

"  This  is  fearful,"  exclaimed  Claudia,  passionately ;  "  this  idea  that,  will  as 
we  may,  struggle  as  we  may,  we  are  blindly  hurried  on  by  an  unknown  power, 
perhaps  to  good,  perhaps  to  evil — at  any  rate  toward  a  hidden  end.  What  be- 
comes ot  moral  responsibility,  of  conscience,  of  any  effort  toward  self-con- 
quest ? " 

"  They  go  down  before  the  iron  keel  of  destiny,  who  bears  us  on,  resisting 
or  unresisting,  blind  or  open-eyed,  to  what  you  truly  call- the  hidden  end." 

"  Then  why  should  men  be  punished  for  crime  ? " 

"  They  should  not.  There  is  no  crime.  A  man  does  that  to  which  his  tem- 
perament impels  him — that  which  his  destiny  has  pre-ordained  from  the  begin- 
ning. He  is  no  more  accountable  for  the  results  than  is  this  bit  of  ivory  for 
your  lost  game." 

He  fillipped  the  captured  queen  as  he  spoke,  and  her  head  rolled  across  the 
board  and  dropped  at  his  feet. 

Claudia  put  aside  his  apology  with  a  smile,  and  said  : 

"  Like  her  mistress,  she  feels  that  in  losing  the  game  she  loses  all.  She  has 
escaped  destiny  now,  at  any  rate." 

"  No,  for  destiny  decreed  that  she  should  thus  fall ;  also  has  decreed  that,  in 
spite  of  her  attempt  at  self-destruction,  she  should  be  restored  to  all  her  former 
beauty  and  usefulness,"  said  Dr.  Luttrell,  as  he  smilingly  put  the  broken  piece 
in  his  pocket. 


8o  CIPHER. 

Claudia  looked  at  him  with  flushed  cheeks  and  brilliant  eyes. 

"  But  this  matter  of  destiny,"  said  she.  "  Are  yon  resigned  to  be  thus  blindly 
impelled  hither  and  thither,  and  to  feel  all  effort  and  resistance  a  useless  strug- 
gle ?  Does  not  this  belief  deprive  you  of  all  interest  in  life  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  Life  to  me  is  an  interesting  novel,  of  which  I  am  the  hero. 
Fate  turns  the  pages,  and  I  read  as  fast  as  I  am  permitted.  It  is  far  less  trouble 
and  much  more  exciting  than  your  idea  of  writing  the  book  yourself.  Author- 
ship is  not  my  role" 

"  At  least  you  should  never  be  angry  with  those  who  disappoint  or  thwart 
you,"  said  Claudia,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  To  the  philosopher,  disappointment  is  a  word  without  value  or  meaning,"  re- 
turned the  other.  "  It  is  folly  to  try  to  guess  what  is  written  on  the  other  side  of 
the  page  ;  but  if  you  will  do  so,  and  find  you  have  guessed  wrong,  why,  there  is  an 
end  of  it — why  be  disappointed  ?  What  must  be,  will  be  ;  and  why  vex  yourself 
by  quarrelling  with  destiny  ?  When  you  chose  to  marry  Mr.  Livingstone  instead 
of  me,  you  thought  you  decided  for  yourself;  but  you  did  not,  and  I  knew  you 
did  not,  and  so  felt  neither  anger  nor  sorrow ;  neither  blamed  you  nor  loved  you 
the  less,  for  I  knew  that  you  accepted  this  necessity  of  fate  as  unwillingly  as  I 
did.  I  knew,  too,  that  this  marriage  ceremony  would  prove  no  solvent  to  the 
secret  affinity  which  must  forever  bind  our  souls  together,  let  our  tongues  belie 
it  as  they  may." 

He  fixed  his  gleaming  eyes  on  Claudia's  face. 

She  returned  the  look  defiantly. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  say  that,"  replied  she.  "  Since  I  was  married  I  have 
never  spoken  a  word  to  you  that  should  prove  that  I  remembered — " 

"  Nor  I  to  you  ;  but  have  you  not  known  it  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Claudia,  desperately. 

Luttrell  smiled. 

"Say  no,  if  you  will,  but  do  not  try  to  think  no,"  returned  he,  quietly,  "for 
nothing  is  so  weakening  as  self-deception." 

"  But  I  will  not — you  shall  not — I,  at  least,  am  no  fatalist,  and  will  not  have 
my  free  will  thus  quietly  taken  out  of  my  hands,"  persisted  Claudia.  "  I  do 
not  choose  to  remember  or  to  know  more  than  that  Dr.  Luttrell  and  his  wile 
are  pleasant  acquaintances  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Livingstone." 

Dr.  Luttrell  smiled  and  bowed,  hiding  his  shining  eyes  with  their  drooping 
lids. 

Claudia  waited  for  denial,  for  argument  ;  but  none  came.  She  nervously  re- 
placed the  chessmen  in  their  box,  and  glanced  toward  her  late  adversary.  His 
face  wore  an  expression  of  regret,  of  mortification,  perhaps,  but  he  did  not  raise 
his  eyes. 

"  I  should  have  said  friends,  instead  of  acquaintances,"  said  she,  softly. 

"  The  first  is  the  better  word,"  replied  Luttrell,  coldly. 

"  Then  you  do  not  wish  me  for  a  friend,"  said  Claudia,  wounded  beyond  her 
self-possession. 

"I  do  not  believe  in  friendship,"  returned  Luttrell ;  "we  have  acquaintances 
more  or  less  intimate  ;  we  have  passions  and  affinities  ;  but  friendship  is  to  me 
a  word  without  meaning." 

"  You  are  cynical,"  said  Claudia,  bitterly. 

*  Not  at  all ;  I  am  philosophical,  and  it  is  one  of  my  philosophies  to  talk  as 


CIPHER. 

little  as  may  be  of  myself,  or  of  my  own  experiences.  Do  you  notice  how  heav- 
ily the  air  of  these  rooms  is  charged  with  electricity  ?  " 

Claudia  glanced  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  I  mean  the  moral  atmosphere.  There  is  enough  passion,  intrigue,  hope, 
despair,  restlessness  circling  about  our  heads  to  furnish  matter  for  a  score  of 
romances." 

Claudia  slightly  moved  her  position  so  as  to  command  a  view  of  the  draw- 
ing-rooms. 

It  was  the  moment  when  Percy  and  Neria,  standing  hand  in  hand,  looked  fare- 
well into  each  others'  eyes.  Rafe  Chilton  had  drawn  his  chair  close  to  Francia's 
side,  and  while  toying  with  her  fan,  murmured  behind  it  words  to  which  she  list- 
ened with  blushing,  half-averted  face  and  down-dropped  eyes. 

Mr.  Livingstone,  aroused  from  his  nap,  studied  the  stock-list  with  frowning 
brow  and  muttering  lips. 

Unseen  by  all,  Mr.  Vaughn  and  Fergus  Murray  stood  just  within  the  door- 
way, the  keen  eyes  of  each  taking  in  the  tout  ensemble  of  the  scene,  and  each 
drawing  from  it  his  own  conclusions. 

"  I  see,"  said  Claudia,  in  a  low  voice  ;  and  rising,  she  went  to  greet  her 
guests,  and  to  break  up  the  too  obvious  tete-a-tete  between  Francia  and  a  man 
whom  she  knew  both  her  uncle  and  her  brother  disapproved. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
FRANCIA'S  MISTAKE. 

WITH  slight  notice  of  his  sister  or  the  rest,  Fergus  passed  into  the  other 
room,  and  standing  beside  Neria,  said  impatiently, 

"  When  are  you  going  home,  I  wonder  ?  " 

"  To  Bonniemeer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  tired  of  stumbling  over  that  mooning  Percy  every.time  I  come 
here.  As  for  Chilton,  I  am  afraid  that  some  day  I  shall  take  the  trouble  to  im- 
part to  him  my  opinion  of  himself;  and  that  might  lead  to  unpleasant  results." 

Neria  placed  her  cool  hand  upon  his. 

"  Dear  Fergus,"  said  she,  "  cannot  you  make  your  circle  of  tolerance  a  little 
larger  ?  One  is  so  much  happier  in  charity  and  love  with  all  men.  And  it 
grieves  us  when  you  are  ill-pleased." 

"  I  cannot  flatter  myself  that  my  words  are  so  important,"  said  Fergus,  sul- 
lenly. 

"  You  wrong  yourself  and  us  in  saying  so  ;  us,  by  doubting  our  love  and 
sympathy,  and  yourself  in  refusing  to  accept  this  love  and  sympathy,  which 
would,  admitted  to  your  life,  render  it  so  much  more  peaceful  and  beautiful." 

"  Others  are  not  like  you,  Neria,"  said  the  young  man,  in  a  softer  tone. 

"All  here  are  like  me  in  caring  for  you,  Fergus." 

"  How  much  does  Francia  care,  when  she  encourages  that  profligate  fellow, 
after  the  expression  of  my  disapprobation  ;  after  her  own  promise  to  give  up  his 
acquaintance  ? "  asked  Fergus,  gloomily. 

Neria  looked  troubled,  but  presently  answered  cheerily, 

"  Franc  is  so  charming  and  so  much  admired,  that  we  must  be  reconciled 
to  seeing  a  good  deal  of  homage  offered  at  her  shrine,  and  sometimes  by  un« 


82  CIPHER. 

worthy  worshippers.  It  does  not  harm  her,  and  by-and-by  she  will  be  tired  of 
her  position  as  divinity.  "We  women  have  four  seasons  like  the  year,"  and  it  is 
spring-time  with  her  yet." 

"  Some  women's  spring-time  has  all  the  freshness  of  her's  without  its  crude- 
ness,"  said  Fergus,  smiling  into  Neria's  eyes. 

"  But  not  the  rich  and  glowing  promise,"  returned  Neria,  half  sadly.  "  See, 
Mr.  Chilton  is  going." 

"  That  is  a  pity — for  Francia." 

"  Now,  Fergus,  don't  be  cross  with  the  poor  child.  You  have  not  been  kind 
to  her  for  some  weeks." 

"  Because  she  has  allowed  Chilton  to  haunt  her  like  her  shadow." 

"  To  be  unkind  to  her  yourself,  is  only  to  make  his  courtesies  seem  the  more 
agreeable.  She  is  coming  in  here,  and  I  shall  go  away  and  leave  you  to  make 
friends.  We  go  home  next  week,  and  it  is  quite  time  you  were  on  good  terms 
again.  Be  gentle  and  careful." 

Francia  approached  with  a  nervous  smile  upon  her  flushed  face. 

"  I  thought  Mr.  Percy  was  here,"  said  she  to  Neria,  but  glancing  timidly  at 
Fergus  while  she  spoke. 

"  He  went  away  a  few  moments  ago.  Sit  down,  dear,  and  sing  us  that  little 
barcarolle,  won't  you  ?  Fergus  has  not  heard  it." 

Francia  seated  herself,  played  a  simple  prelude  with  faltering  fingers,  and 
tried  to  sing ;  but  in  the  first  notes  her  voice  trembled,  broke,  and  in  a  sudden 
burst  of  tears  she  ran  away  from  the  piano,  and  sought  shelter  in  the  deep  bay- 
window. 

With  an  expressive  glance  at  Fergus,  Neria  went  into  the  other  room,  and 
seated  herself  near  Vaughn,  who  was  carrying  on  a  desultory  conversation  with 
Mr.  Livingstone. 

Fergus  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  followed  Francia,  who  crouched  sob- 
bing upon  an  ottoman. 

"  Franc  !  "  said  he,  softly,  as  he  seated  himself  beside  her. 

No  answer. 

"  Don't  cry,  Francia.     I'm  not  angry." 

"  But  you  will  be." 

"  No,  I  won't.     I  suppose  you  couldn't  help  his  coming." 

"  N-o-o." 

"  But  you  need  not  have  let  him  whisper  in  your  ear." 

A  fresh  burst  of  sobs. 

';  O  Franc,  I  wish  you  would  be  more  womanly ;  show  a  little  more  dignity, 
or  at  least  a  little  more  regard  for  me." 

"  There,  I  knew  you  would." 

"  Would  what,  child  ?  " 

"  Would  scold.     And  you  will  be  so  angry." 

"  No,  but  I  am  not  angry,  and  not  going  to  be,  only  sorry.  I  love  my  little 
cousin  too  much  to  be  really  angry  with  her." 

"  I  don't  think  you  have  loved  me  very  much  this  last  month,"  murmured 
Francia  out  of  her  handkerchief. 

"  It  is  because  I  love  you  so  well  that  I  have  been  sorry  to  see  you — well,  I 
won't  say  any  more.  So  you  thought  I  didn't  love  you,  little  girl  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  never  thought  you  didn't  love  me,  so  you  see  I  was  the  wiser  of  the 


CIPHER.  83 

two.  Now  I  will  tell  you  what  I  shall  do  to  prevent^  any  such  mistakes  in  fu- 
ture. I  shall  tell  all  the  world  that  I  love  you  and  you  love  me,  and  that  you  are 
my  own  little  Franc,  and  no  one  else  is  to  come  within  six  feet  of  you,  or  to 
speak  to  you  any  lower  than  they  would  to  Mr.  Livingstone.  Then  I  shall  send 
you  back  to  Bonniemeer,  and  keep  you  safely  there  until  I  have  a  nice  little 
cage  all  ready  for  you  here  or  somewhere  else ;  and  then  I  shall  come  and  bring 
you  to  live  in  it  forever  and  a  day,  and — how  do  the  story  books  end  ? 

Lived  happy  all  their  lives, 

Isn't  it?" 

He  put  his  arm  round  her  as  he  spoke,  and  drew  her  close  to  his  side,  but 
even  in  the  dim  light  was  startled  to  see  the  pale  face  and  wild  eyes  she  raised 
to  his. 

"  O,  Fergus,  Fergus  !  "  cried  she.  "  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  sooner  ? 
How  could  I  know — and — and  I  am  engaged  to  Rafe  Chilton." 

Fergus  started  to  his  feet,  and  looked  down  with  terrible  eyes  upon  the  fair 
young  face,  that  seemed  to  wither  beneath  his  gaze. 

"  I  would  not  have  believed,"  said  he,  at  last,  "  that  you  could  sink  so  low. 
Forget  from  this  moment,  as  I  do,  that  any  other  tie  than  our  unfortunate  rela- 
tionship has  ever  drawn  us  together." 

He  left  the  room,  the  house,  without  another  word  ;  and  Francia,  sinking  upon 
the  floor,  child-like,  cried  herself  to  sleep. 

So  Neria  found  her  an  hour  later  when  Vaughn,  the  last  of  the  guests,  had 
departed,  saying  to  his  ward  as  he  bade  her  good-night, 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  to-morrow.  Will  you  ride  with  me  at 
eleven  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Sieur." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE      PERRY      WOODS. 

O,  BLUE-EYED  Katie  Coleman,  do  you  remember  the  summer  days  that  you 
and  I,  two  merry  hoydens  in  our  earliest  teens,  laughed  or  dreamed  away  among 
the  joyous  Perry  Woods  ?  Now  it  was  a  butterfly,  a  tiger-moth,  a  glittering 
dragon-fly  which  we  chased,  and  left  uncaptured  at  the  last ;  now  it  was  the 
white  and  yellow  violets  in  the  meadow  beyond  the  wood  that  tempted  us  to 
the  destruction  of  hose  and  shoon  ;  now  it  was  the  nodding  Solomon's  seal,  the 
purple  orchis,  the  gay  columbine,  that  we  sought  upon  the  hill-side,  and  though 
we  lost  each  a  shoe  in  the  meadow,  we  found  whole  handfuls  of  lady's-slippers 
in  the  wood.  And  do  you  remember,  Katie,  when  we  pulled  the  farmer's  rad- 
ishes, and  sitting  under  the  edge  of  the  wood,  eat  the  stolen  treasure  with  its 
clinging  soil,  and  even  while  the  acrid  flavor  brought  tears  to  our  eyes,  as- 
sured each  other  that  it  was  a  feast.  Ah,  pretty  Katie  Coleman  !  Twenty  years 
since  then,  my  friend,  twenty  stages  from  that  idyllian  age  of  golden  romance  ! 
But  the  sunshine  that  flecked  the  turf  of  Perry's  Woods  with  sheen  still  glim- 
mers duskily  through  my  life,  and  shows  me  here  and  there  around  my  feet  a 
flower  that,  without  it,  I  might  never  see. 

And  if  this  blue  sky  above  my  head  arches  also  over  yours,  may  it  shed  all 
balmy  dews  upon  your  path,  all  peace  and  love  upon  your  life,  for  the  sake  of 
those  blithe  days  bygone.  And  if,  my  Katie,  you  now  dwell  above,  as  I  beneath 


84  CIPHER. 

the  sky,  I  know  right  well  that  your  pure  heart  and  gentle  nature  will  have  Jed 
you  to  other  woods  and  other  flowers,  fairer  even  than  the  sunny  memories  of 
youth. 

So  it  was  to  Perry's  Woods  that  Vaughn  and  Neria  rode  upon  the  breozy 
March  morning  when  he  spoke.  The  sky  was  a  pure  bright  blue,  islanded  with 
great  white  cumuli.  The  south  wind  smelt  of  violets  a-bloom  whence  it  had 
come.  The  willow  twigs  made  a  wreath  of  rosy  mist  along  the  brook-side — the 
brook  that  warbled  loud  and  warbled  soft  its  spring-tide  song.  The  earliest 
bluebird  of  the  year  praised  God  from  the  topmost  branches  of  the  elm.  The 
exquisite  tracery  9f  twig  and  branch  against  the  lucent  sky  was  better  than 
foliage,  and  the  springing  grass  under  foot  was  fairer  to  the  winter-withered 
senses  than  all  the  flush  of  bloom  that  should  bourgeon  the  summer. 

Neria  sat  upon  her  white  palfrey,  and  with  her  smiling  eyes  seemed  to  gather 
in  and  taken  possession  of  the  scene  until  its  charm  incorporated  itself  in  her 
being,  and  shone  forth  again,  adding  a  new  and  subtle  beauty  to  what  had  seemed 
finished  already. 

Vaughn  looked  only  at  her,  and  the  love  of  a  man's  strong  nature  made  his 
face  as  that  of  a  god.  She  turned  suddenly,  and  met  his  eyes — met  and  read 
them,  and  her  sweet  face  grew  pale. 

He  took  her  hand. 

"  Neria,  where  are  the  words  that  I  should  say  to  you  ?  How  can  I  hope  to 
tell  you  the  reverence  and  love  that  has  become  my  life  ?  How  dare  I  ask  God 
to  give  to  me,  alone,  the  pure  angel  whom  he  has  vouchsafed  to  mankind  ? 
You  have  so  little  of  earth,  dear  Neria,  that  I  cannot  ask  you  to  mate  yourself . 
with  me,  who,  alas,  am  all  of  earth  ;  but,  sweet,  if  I  may  wear  you  on  my  heart  as 
a  blessed  amulet,  if  I  may  stand  between  the  world  and  you,  and  you  shall  stand 
between  Heaven  and  me — if  I  may  help  you  to  make  others  happy,  and  you  will 
help  me  to  mend  -much  that  is  amiss  in  my  own  life — Neria,  if  you  will  be  the 
angel  in  my  house  and  in  my  heart,  then  can  I  ask  no  more  of  Heaven  than  to 
give  me  life  and  grace  to  show  continually  how  I  prize  its  gift." 

The  sweet  content  of  the  spring-morning  changed  on  Neria's  face  to  doubt 
and  alarm. 

"  Sieur,  I  have  not  thought  of  this,"  said  she,  simply. 

"  Think  of  it,  now,  dear  child. 

"  I  cannot.  I  must  disarrange  all  the  habit  of  my  thought  to  place  you  in  the 
position  of — " 

"  Of  a  lover,  you  would  say.  I  feared  it  would  be  so,  dear.  I  am  too  far 
away  from  you — in  years,  in  experience,  in  the  circle  of  life — for  you  to  find  my 
love  other  than  oppressive  and  unwelcome,"  said  Vaughn,  sadly. 

"  No,  not  that,  Sieur,  but  it  is  so  new.  May  I  think  about  it  a  little,  before 
I  say  any  more  ?  " 

"  Surely,  dear,  as  long  as  you  will,  but  you  may  not  try  to  force  upon  your 
heart  the  belief  that  you  can  return  this  love  of  mine,  and  so  offer  yourself  a 
sacrifice  upon  the  altar  of  self-devotion.  If  you  cannot  give  yourself  to  me 
frankly  and  fully,  Neria,  tell  me  so  at  once,  and  we  will  forget  all  this,  and  you 
shall  be  again  to  me  a  daughter,  a  trust ;  something  to  be  loved,  and  guarded,  and 
reverenced,  as  Arthur's  knights  guarded  the  San  Grail,  though  no  man  among 
them  dared  lay  finger  upon  it." 

He  turned  his  horse's  head  while  he  spoke,  and  they  rode  slowly  home. 

It  was  that  very  evening,  as  Vaughn  sat  alone  in  the  twilight  of  the  deserted 


CIPHER.  85 

drawing-room,  that  the  faint  perfume  always  enveloping  Neria,  suddenly  floated 
around  his  head,  although  he  had  heard  no  step,  and  a  slender  hand  crept  within 
his  own. 

He  looked  up.  Through  the  shadow  of  the  twilight  a  fair  face  shone  down 
upon  him,  saint-wise. 

"  Is  it  my  angel,  or  the  angel  of  mankind  ?"  asked  he,  softly. 

"  O,  Sieur,  do  not  call  me  an  angel ;  I  am  so  weak,  so  ignorant !  But  if  it  is 
true  that  I  can  help  you  a  little,  let  me  do  it  in  your  own  way." 

It  was  not  the  loving  confession  he  would  have  liked  to  hear,  but  it  was  ac- 
ceptance ;  and  the  heart  of  the  man  was  stirred  as  with  strong  wine,  while  for 
the  first  time  he  took  his  bride  in  his  arms,  and  reverently  kissed  her  lips. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

COMING   HOME. 

THE  great  content  of  his  new  happiness  disposed  Vaughn  to  be  more  indul- 
gent than  even  his  wont  to  the  wishes  of  his  only  child,  and  although  he  could 
not  approve  or  sympathize  in  her  choice,  he  would  not  absolutely  refuse  consent 
to  it.  He  did  not,  however,  refrain  from  expressing  to  Mr.  Chilton  his  views 
with  regard  to  some  passages  in  that  young  man's  life,  and  informing  him  most 
distinctly  that  his  engagement  to  Francia  must  be  a  conditional  one,  to  be  broken 
at  any  time  when  her  friends  considered  him  to  have  failed  in  keeping  the  good 
resolutions  that  he  now  professed. 

Chilton,  quite  seriously  in  love,  and  rather  proud  of  bearing  away  the  beauty 
of  the  season,  as  Ffancia  had  been  styled,  found  himself  very  willing  to  sub- 
scribe to  even  harder  conditions  than  these  ;  and  immediately  removed  his  lodg- 
ings from  a  hotel  to  a  quiet  boarding-house  ;  reduced  his  allowance  of  cigars  to 
three  per  diem;  confined  himself  in  his  convivialities  to  light  wines  ;  turned  the 
cold  shoulder  to  several  of  his  former  intimates  ;  spent  nearly  an  hour  every  day 
in  the  law-office,  whose  door-plate  bore  his  name  in  conjunction  with  that  of  a 
partner  who  did  all  the  work  and  assumed  nearly  all  the  profit  of  the  concern  ; 
and,  in  bri  :f,  resolved,  as  he  himself  expressed  the  determination,  to  "  try  the 
Falstaffian  lodge,  'eschew  sack,  and  live  cleanly.'  " 

Neria's  consternation  and  regret  upon  first  hearing  of  Francia's  engagement 
were  extreme.  Her  pure  and  true  instincts  had  always  negatived  any  feeling  of 
admiration  for  Mr.  Chilton's  appearance  or  manners,  and  her  sympathy  with 
Fergus  caused  her  painfully  to  appreciate  the  severe  disappointment  and  sorrow 
underlying  his  silent  displeasure.  She,  however,  said  but  little  upon  the  sub- 
ject, especially  to  Francia,  whom  she  treated  with  an  added  tenderness  and 
delicacy,  sufficiently  expressed  by  Francia's  playful  wish,  that  she  were  a  little 
girl  instead  of  a  great  one,  that  she  might  call  Neria  mother. 

Claudia  was  content  with  both  engagements.  Mr.  Chilton  was  a  man  of 
wealth  and  fashion,  and  would,  of  course,  immediately  renounce  the  open  offences 
against  morality  which  had  somewhat  disturbed  society  in  its  wish  to  render 
him  its  highest  consideration.  As  for  the  rest,  Mrs.  Livingstone's  standard  of 
lite  was  not  very  high,  and  she  held  the  tenet  that  every  young  man  was  either  a 
sinner  or  a  hypocrite. 

Mr.  Murray  took  snuff,  and  blandly  congratulated  Vaughn  upon  his  own  and 
his  daughter's  engagement. 


86  CIPHER. 

Fergus  almost  deserted  his  sister's  house,  and  professed  himself  absorbed 
in  business. 

It  was  arranged  that  Neria's  quiet  marriage  should  take  place  as  soon  as  its 
preliminaries  could  bt  arranged,  and  that  until  then  she  and  Francia  should  re- 
main with  Claudia,  while  Vaughn  vacillated  between  the  city  and  Bonniemeer, 
where  he  was  pleasing  his  luxurious  taste  by  some  alterations  and  new  furnish- 
ings in  honor  of  the  bride  who  was  to  be. 

It  was  on  a  joyous  April  day  that  he  finally  brought  her  home,  and,  before 
entering  the  house,  lingered  a  moment  upon  the  terrace  with  her,  to  admire  the 
capricious  beauty  of  the  landscape,  where  all  earth  seemed  frolicking  in  her 
girlish  glee,  and  afar  upon  the  horizon  line  the  bright  blue  ocean  tossed  its  glit- 
tering foam  against  the  bright  blue  sky. 

Vaughn  drew  Neria  close  to  his  side. 

"  My  wife,"  whispered  he,  "  tell  me  that  you  are  happy." 

"  O,  so  happy  !  "  said  Neria,  brightly.  "  Such  a  heavenly  day,  and  coming 
home  to  our  own  dear  Bonniemeer,  are  enough  for  happiness." 

"  But  to  be  with  you  in  any  weather,  and  at  any  place,  is  enough  for  happi- 
ness to  me,"  urged  the  bridegroom,  in  a  tone'of  half-playful  reproach. 

Neria  looked  at  him  a  little  wonderingly,  and  then  raised  her  face  heaven- 
ward with  a  smile  of  serene  satisfaction  ;  but  whether  evoked  by  his  words  or  the 
joyous  scene,  Vaughn  did  not  dare  inquire. 

"  Come,  spirit,"  said  he,  leading  her  toward  the  house,  "  I  am  afraid  to  let 
you  stay  here,  lest  you  suddenly  float  away  and  leave  me  desolate.  I  will  close 
you  within  walls,  and  only  allow  you  to  see  the  sky  through  non-conducting 
glass,  until  you  are  a  little  naturalized  by  sympathy  with  me.  I  anticipate  that 
in  course  of  time  our  natures  will  become  equalized,  to  a  certain  extent,  at  least. 
You  are  to  elevate  and  purify  me,  and  I  am  to  strengthen  and  practicalize  you.  So 
shall  we  both  fill  more  perfectly  our  places  in  this  world,  and  in  each  other's  hearts. 

Neria  regarded  him  with  a  dreamy  smile,  and  softly  said, 

-  "  I  cannot  tell.     It  is  all  s/>  new  and  strange  to  me  as  yet,  but  I  am  sure  that 
you  will  be  to  me  what  you  have  always  been." 

"  O  no,  dear  child,  but  more  and  better,"  said  Vaughn,  eagerly.  "  Do  you 
not  feel  the  change  that  love  has  wrought  in  our  relations  to  each  other  ? " 

"  But  I  have  always  loved  and  reverenced  you,"  returned  Neria,  with  the 
pathetic  intonation  peculiar  to  her  voice  when  she  found  herself  perplexed  or 
troubled. 

Vaughn  smiled  a  little  dubiously,  and  led  her  into  the  house. 

"  See,  now,  my  ocean  waif,  the  bower  I  have  been  building  for  you,"  said 
he,  leading  the  way  through  a  richly-furnished  bridal  chamber  and  dressing- 
room,  to  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  apartments  recently  added  to  the  house. 

"  Here  is  a  boudoir,  where  you  may,  if  you  choose,  fancy  yourself  still  be- 
neath the  sea." 

He  threw  open  the  door  and  Neria,  standing  upon  the  threshold,  uttered  a 
little  cry  of  delight. 

The  arched  ceiling,  divided  into  four  compartments  by  heavy  mullions,  rep- 
resented in  fresco,  Venus  rising  from  the  sea,  surrounded  by  rosy  little  Loves  ; 
Arion  riding  his  dolphin,  and  drawing  all  the  creatures  of  the  deep  to  listen  to 
his  wonderful  melodies  ;  the  nymph  Tyro  yielding  half  coy,  half  willing  to  the 
wooing  of  Neptune,  who  drew  her  toward  his  wave-borne  chariot ;  and  last,  an 
exquisite  design  showing  a  fair  child  asleep  in  a  great  sea-shell  floating  upon  a 
smiling  sea,  and  rocked  by  the  tiny  hands  of  Nereids,  whose  sweet  faces  and 


CIPHER.  87 

shining  hair  floated  above  the  waves,  while  their  gleaming  shapes  showed  fairly 
through  the  pure  water. 

From  the  cornice  fell  heavy  folds  of  sea-green  silk,  draping  the  walls  and 
lying  upon  a  carpet  of  white  velvet,  embossed  with  groups  of  sea  mosses  and 
grasses,  with  sprigs  of  coral  interspersed.  Upon  the  mantle  shelf,  itself  upheld 
by  sculptured  Tritons,  lay  two-great  sea-shells  with  flowers  and  trailing  vines 
drooping  over  their  rose-red  lips,  and  between  them  an  exquisite  marble  group, 
showing  Andromeda  chained  half-lifeless  to  the  rock,  closing  her  eyes  to  shut 
out  the  sea  monster,  while  Perseus  stole  to  her  side,  and  looked  with  admiring 
wonder  upon  her  rare  beauty. 

Two  or  three  paintings,  gems  of  ocean  scenery,  hung  upon  the  walls,  and 
on  the  etagere  lay  some  rare  mosaics,  cameos,  shells,  and  sea  pebbles.  A  little 
book-rack  was  filled  with  the  poets  Neria  loved,  the  volumes  bound  in  silk  of 
the  same  tint  as  the  hangings  of  the  room.  The  furniture  was  of  ebony  inlaid 
with  mother-of-pearl,  the  chairs  and  couches  luxuriously  cushioned  with  silk  of 
the  prevailing  tint.  A  wide  bay  window  let  in  a  flood  of  morning  sunshine, 
and  commanded  a  wide  view  of  the  distant  sea. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ? "  asked  Vaughn,  who  had  watched,  with  loving  delight,  the 
varying  expression  of  Neria's  face  as  she  silently  made  the  tour  of  the  little 
chamber,  gathering  in  all  its  beauty  with  her  swift  and  comprehensive  glances.  As 
he  spoke  she  came  toward  him  and  raised  her  lips  to  his  with  innocent  grace. 

"  How  can  I  ever  do  anything  for  you  who  are  always  doing  so  much  for 
me  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Do  anything  for  me,  darling  ?  By  simply  being,  you  do  everything.  My 
white  angel,  my  pure  saint,  do  you  not  know  that  it  is  by  thus  putting  the 
smallest  portion  of  my  love  into  deeds,  that  I  relieve  my  heart  of  this  burden 
of  joy  which  almost  cleaves  it  in  twain  !  Neria,  you  do  not  know,  you  do  not 
faintly  guess  how  much  I  love  you.  And  you — ah,  my  love,  my  darling,  be. a 
little  human — blush  when  I  kiss  your  lips  thus  and  thus  ;  droop  those  pure  eyes 
before  the  passion  of  my  gaze  ;  let  those  calm  pulses  beat,  and  pause,  and  beat 
again,  as  mine  do  when  I  clasp  you  in  my  arms.  Neria,  love  me  as  I  love 
you  ! " 

And  Neria,  pale,  passive,  disturbed,  answered  in  her  plaintive  voice, 

"  I  do  love  you,  Sieur — I  love  you  very  much." 

Vaughn  impatiently  opened  his  lips,  but  left  the  words  unsaid.  Taking  the 
slender  hands  of  his  girl-wife  in  one  of  his,  he  looked  down  into  her  troubled 
face  for  a  moment,  then  smiled  a  little  sadly,  and  tenderly  smoothed  her  hair. 

"  You  are  tired,  dear  child,"  said  he  ;  "  come  into  your  chamber  and  rest  a 
little.  I  will  send  up  your  trunks,  and  Mrs.  Barlow,  the  housekeeper,  to  help  you 
with  your  toilet." 

Neria  mutely  obeyed,  but  when  she  was  left  alone  could  not  rest  for  wonder- 
ing why  the  love  that  had  always  seemed  good  and  sufficient  in  Vaughn's  eyes, 
had  [suddenly  grown  so  inadequate  to  satisfy  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PUTTING   THE   BUTTERFLY   INTO   THE   CHRYSALIS. 

"  WHO  shall  say  that  we  are  out  of  the  reach  of  fashionable  gayeties  ?  "  asked 
Vaughn,  merrily,  as  he  entered  the  boudoir  where  Neria,  pale  and  pensive,  sat 
reading  aloud  to  Francia,  who  wrought  at  some  embroidery  secretly  destined  to 
adorn  those  "  wedding  clothes  "  over  which  the  idlest-little  maiden  grows  indus- 
trious. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  asked  Francia,  eagerly,  while  Neria  raised  her  languid  eyes  to 
her  husband's  face. 

"  I  have  been  to  Carrick,"  said  he,  "and  in  the  post-office  was  addressed  by 
Jones  Merton,  a  young  gentleman  pursuing  the  profession  of  blacksmith  in  that 
place,  but  just  now  more  interested  in  the  management  of  a  ball  to  be  given  to- 
morrow evening  at  the  Mermaid's  Cave,  in  honor  of  the  fishermen  who  leave 
home  upon  the  following  day  to  be  gone  all  summer.  Mr.  Merton,  after  giving 
these  particulars,  closed  with  a  pressing  invitation  to  me  to  be  present  myself, 
and  'bring  my  folks.'  I  told  him  I  should  be  most  happy  to  attend,  but  feared 
that  the  ladies  of  my  family  would  be  unable  to  accompany  me.  Did  I  do 
right  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  papa,  you  did  very  wrong.  I  should  like  of  all  things  to  go," 
exclaimed  Francia.  "  Shouldn't  you,  Neria  ? " 

"I  don't  believe  I  should,"  said  Neria,  slightly  smiling.  "But  I  will  go  to 
chaperon  you,  if  Sieur  likes  to  take  us." 

"  No,  indeed,  Neria ;  I  shouldn't  think  of  letting  you  make  such  a  sacrifice  ; 
nor  can  I  imagine  any  combination  of  person  and  place  so  incongruous  as  you 
in  the  ball-room  of  the  Mermaid's  Cave,"  said  Vaughn.  "  If  Franc  likes  to  go, 
I  will  take  her.  The  society  of  Carrick  is  not  exigcante,  in  the  matter  of  chap- 
erons." 

''Then  7am  not  incongruous,  papa,"  pouted  Francia,  so  comically  that  her 
father  kissed  her  ripe  lips,  as  he  answered, 

"  You  are  a  little  girl,  and  it  is  of  small  consequence  what  you  do  or  leave 
undone." 

"  I  am  eighteen,  and  not  so  very  little  " — persisted  Francia — "  not  so  little 
but  that  I  can  put  my  arms  about  your  neck,  for  all  your  six  feet  of  dignity, 
monsieur  le  pere." 

She  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  and  suddenly  found  herself  lifted  from  the 
floor  and  borne  round  the  room  in  a  very  secure,  if  not  a  very  dignified,  posi- 
tion. 

"  There,  now  go  and  ask  your  mamma  what  you  shall  wear,  and  don't  be  too 


CIPHER.  89 

fine  for  the  company,"  said  her  father,  replacing  her  upon  the  ottoman  where  he 
had  found  her,  and  seating  himself  in  such  a  position  as  to  get  Neria's  profile 
against  the  green  background  of  the  hangings. 

•'  My  mamma,  indeed  !  "  exclaimed  Francia,  laying  her  bright  head  upon  Ne- 
ria's lap  and  looking  up  into  her  face.  "  Well,  respected  parent,  what  shall  I 
wear  ? " 

"  Something  that  may  be  washed  afterward,  I  should  say,"  rejoined  Neria. 

"  O,  you  fastidious  child  !  I  dare  say  the  people  will  be  just  as  nice  as  those 
we  met  last  winter,  only  a  little  less  cultivated." 

"  And  a  little  more  fishy,"  suggested  her  father. 

"  Well,  Neria  can  bear  to  go  to  their  houses  and  stay  whole  hours,  seeing  to 
sick  people  and  babies  and  all  ;  so  I  think  I  may  dance  with  them  one  evening  !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  I  was  only  jesting,"  said  Neria.  "  I  have  no  doubt  you  will 
enjoy  yourself  very  much  ;  but  I  wouldn't  wear  anything  elaborate.  White 
muslin,  with  a  few  blue  ribbons,  will  be  quite  sufficient." 

"And  don't  put  on  your  pearls,"  suggested  Vaughn,  "or  they  will  think  you 
mean  oysters." 

"  Or  your  coral,  lest  they  should  think  you  mean  lobsters,"  added  Neria, 

"You  horrid  aristocrats'!  "  cried  Francia,  indignantly.  ''And  yet  you  both 
see  more  of  these  people  than  I  do,  or  could  bear  to." 

"  Neria  goes  among  them,  not  for  her  own  pleasure,  but  for  their  good,"  sug- 
gested Vaughn,  significantly. 

Franc  blushed  a  little,  but  put  the  lesson  aside  with  a  blithe  laugh. 

"And  so  do  I,"  declared  she.  "  I  am  going  to  give  them  a  lesson  in  danc- 
ing." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear  ;  here  is  a  letter  for  you  which  I  forgot  until 
this  moment,"  said  Vaughn,  suddenly,  drawing  from  his  pocket  and  handing  to 
Francia  a  letter  addressed  in  Mr.  Chilton's  handwriting. 

"  Thank  you,  papa,"  said  she,  shyly  taking  it  from  her  father's  hand  and  run- 
ning away  to  read  it. 

Left  alone  with  him,  Neria  glanced  doubtfully  at  her  husband,  who  was  at- 
tentively regarding  her,  then,  opening  the  book  in  her  hand,  asked, 

"Shall  I  read  to  you  from  'Aurora  Leigh?'  " 

"  Not  just  now,  dear.  I  would  rather  have  you  talk.  Neria,  you  grow  paler 
and  thinner  every  day;  your  cheerfulness  is  forced,  and  you  are  never  joyous. 
All  your  occupations  are  matters  of  resolution,  not  of  inclination.  You  are  si- 
lent, thoughtful,  and  would  always  avoid  me,  did  you  not  force  yourself  to  en- 
dure me.  You  are  totally  changed  from  the  Neria  who  married  me  two  months 
ago,  and  I  have  seen  the  change  working,  day  by  day,  from  the  very  morning  of 
our  arrival  here.  Now.  dear  child,  explain  it  to  me,  as  you  might  to  your  own 
father.  Forget,  if  you  will,  that  I  have  ever  claimed  another  relation  to  you, 
and  may  God  and  you  forgive  me  if  I  judged  wrong  in  assuming  that  relation." 

He  took  her  hand  in  his.  It  was  cold  as  death,  and  every  trace  of  color  had 
left  her  face,  while,  in  the  large,  luminous  eyes,  such  a  depth  of  sorrow,  doubt, 
apprehension,  expressed  themselves,  that  Vaughn,  covering  his  face  with  his 
hands,  groaned  aloud. 

"O,  Neria,  Neria,"  cried  he,  "you  will  die,  and  it  is  my  love  that  is  killing 
you." 

Neria  softly  laid  her  hand  upon  his  head. 

"  Have  a  little  patience,  Sieur,"  said  she.  "  It  is  all  so  new  to  me — I  am  so 
young.  I  did  not  know  what  love  meant — other  love  than  that  I  had  always 


90  CIPHER. 

felt  for  you.  I  am  very  heartless,  I  think — I  believe  I  cannot  love  in  the  wry 
you  would  like  me  to,  and  I  am  afraid  that,  by  trying  so  much,  I  have  done  harm 
to  the  love  I  should  naturally  have  given  you.  I  am  afraid,  Sieur,  I  never  should 
have  .married  any  one,  but  have  been  your  child,  and  loved  you  as  I  could." 

"  Miserable,  selfish,  coarse-natured  creature  that  I  am,"  muttered  Vaughn. 
"  What  have  I  done  ?  Because  an  angel  hovered  near  me,  I  must  grasp  and 
bind  her  to  my  side,  trying  to  make  her  as  myself.  Neria,  I  see  it  now — I  see 
better  than  you  can  see  yourself,  the  struggle  that  has  almost  killed  you  ;  I  feel 
your  sublime  self-renunciation  and  my  own  blind  selfishness  far  more  acutely 
than  you  could  ever  feel  them.  Psyche  and  Silenus  were  as  well  matched — I 
see  now.  I  see  it  all ;  and,  if  I  had  not  been  love-blinded,  I  had  seen  it  sooner. 
I  have  watched  you  from  day  to  day,  and  said,  'she  is  weary,'  'she  is  ill,'  'she 
is  pre-occupied  ; '  'to-morrow,  or  the  day  after,  it  will  be  different,  and  in  the 
end  she  will  love  me.'  Now,  I  see  that  this  will  never  be,  and  pray  God  that  I 
see  it  in  time.  Neria,  from  this  moment  I  am  your  father,  your  brother,  your 
friend — what  you  will.  I  shall  never  again  alarm  you  with  a  love  that  you  can- 
not comprehend,  and  with  which  you  have  no  sympathy,  but  show  you  only  an 
affection  that  you  can  return  in  kind.  We  w'ill  forget  the  fatal  error  of  our  mar- 
riage, and  go  back  to  the  sweet  relations  of  the  old  time.  You  and  Franciawill 
be  my  children,  and  I  will  be  a  tender  father  to  both.  Does  this  please 
you  ?  " 

Through  the  forced  calm  of  his  tone  pierced  the  sharp  cry  of  a  wounded  and 
rejected  love — the  cry  of  a  man's  strong  heart  crushed  back  upon  itself  in  all 
the  vigor  of  its  ardent  life — the  cry  of  a  broken  hope. 

Dimly  as  the  words  of  an  unknown  tongue.,  this  voice  reached  Neria's  heart, 
and,  though  she  could  not  comprehend  its  suffering,  she  instinctively  tried  to 
solace  it. 

"  But  we  loved  each  other  very  much  in  those  days,  Sieur,"  said  she  ;  "  and 
so  do  I  love  you  very  much  now.  Why  will  you  not  be  as  happy  to  return  to 
the  old  quiet  way  of  loving  ?  I  shall  ride  and  walk  with  you,  and  you  will  read 
and  talk  with  me,  and  all  will  be  well  again.  Do  you  not  like  it  as  well  ? " 

"  As  well,  and  better,  my  Psyche,  if  you  will  be  as  happy  as  you  were  then," 
said  Vaughn,  raising  to  meet  her  gaze,  his  face  pale,  but  resolutely  calm. 

"  I  will  be  as  happy  as  you  could  wish,"  said  Neria,  joyously,  as  she  lightly 
kissed  his  brow.  "  And  you  ?  " 

"And  I  shall  be  happy,"  said  Vaughn,  not  returning  the  caress. 

So  Neria,  who  would  silently  have  broken  her  heart  and  died,  rather  than 
consciously  embitter  any  existence  that  God  had  created,  accepted  the  sacrifice 
of  a  man's  life  as  simply  as  she  would  a  flower ;  and  Vaughn,  devoting  himself 
to  a  future  of  constant  watchfulness,  self-restraint,  and  feigned  content,  knew 
that  his  sacrifice  mustt  remain  unappreciated,  unthanked,  forever — for  not  the 
most  implacable  coquette  is  so  pitiless  to  the  man  who  worships  her  as  is  the 
wife  who  knows  not  how  to  love. 

With  the  rapid  prescience  of  strong  emotion,  Vaughn,  sitting  calmly  at  his 
wife's  feet,  saw  his  future  life  outspread  before  him,  and  resolved  upon  even  the 
minutiae  of  his  own  conduct.  Like  Francia  ?  •  No  ;  she  could  never  be  like 
Francia,  nor  must  he  permit  himself  the  caresses  with  her  that  he  offered  to  his 
child.  A  guarded  and  undemonstrative  affection  was  all  that  must  be  permitted 
to' appear;  a  thoughtful  attention  to  her  wishes  and  comfort;  the  careful  train-: 
ing  of  her  intellect  in  study  and  conversation  ;  a  cautious  enjoyment  of  her  so- 
ciety;  a  great  and  constant  care  to  hide  every  symptom  of  suffering  or  discon- 


CIPHER.  91 

tent.  So  far  he  had  arranged  the  weary  programme,  when  Neria's  voice,  blither 
than  it  had  sounded  for  many  a  day,  said, 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  thought  to  say  this  to  me,  Sieur  ;  and  now  let  us  forget  it, 
and  quietly  return  to  our  old  ways.  Don't  you  think  I  ought  to  go  to  the  ball 
with  Franc  ? " 

Vaughn  stared  at  her  as  might  a  man  preparing  himself  for  death,  if  asked 
whether  he  preferred  his  cravat  tied  in  a  bow  or  a  knot. 

Neria  smiled  merrily. 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,"  said  she.  "  I  was  speaking  of  the  ball  at  Car- 
rick." 

"  O,  certainly,  the  ball.     I  promised  to  take  Franc,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,  but  ought  I  not  to  go  with  her  ?  " 

"It  is  not  at  all  necessary,  so  far  as  she  is  concerned  ;  but  if  you  fancy  it  on 
your  own  account,  go,  by  all  means,"  said  Vaughn,  quietly. 

"  I  believe  I  will.  1  feel  so  gay,  Sieur,  now  that  I  may  be  myself  once 
more." 

Vaughn  smiled  back  her  smile,  and  then  abruptly  left  the  room,  feeling  that 
he  could  bear  no  more  just  then. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE  BALL. 

FRANCIA'S  letter,  among  more  important  items,  contained  the  announcement 
that  Mr.  Chilton's  only  brother,  a  lad  of  sixteen  years,  and  a  midshipman  in  the 
United  States  Navy,  had  just  arrived  at  home  from  a  long  cruise,  and  was  about 
to  set  off  upon  another. 

Between  the  two,  he  had  so  strong  a  desire  to  be  introduced  to  his  brother's 
fiancee,  that  Mr.  Chilton  had  taken  the  liberty  to  invite  him  to  Bonniemeer  for 
a  night,  and  they  would  arrive  the  day  after  the  letter.  Nothing  could  be  more 
fortunately  timed  than  this  visit,  as  Francia  immediately  declared  ;  for,  besides 
providing  her  with  an  escort  of  her  own,  it  would  give  the  visitors  an  opportu- 
nity of  seeing  a  phase  of  society  to  which  they  had  probably  never  been  intro- 
duced. 

Her  father  and  Neria  acquiesced  in  what  seemed  to  give  her  so  much  pleas- 
ure, although  neither  of  them  could  feel  any  great  delight  in  the  prospect  of  see- 
ing Ralfe  Chilton,  or  extending  their  acquaintance  with  his  family. 

With  careful  hospitality,  however,  Vaughn  sent  his  carriage  to  Carrick  to 
meet  the  coach  upon  the  ensuing  afternoon,  and  the  two  young  men  arriving  in 
time  for  tea,  were  informed  of  their  prospective  amusement,  and  then  left  in  the 
library  to  be  entertained  by  Mr.  Vaughn,  while  the  ladies  went  up  to  dress. 

Chilton,  whose  boasted  self-possession  and  sang-froid  were  always  severely 
fried  by  the  presence  of  his  prospective  father-in-law,  fell  into  the  mistake  of 
many  young  men,  in  supplying  the  place  of  ease  by  audacity,  and  told  stories, 
made  jests,  and  asked  questions,  until  Vaughn's  glacial  politen*»w  froze  him 


92  CIPHER. 

into  sudden  silence,  and  the  host,  turning  to  his  other  guest,  kindly  questioned 
him  of  his  voyage,  of  his  fancies  for  sea  or  land,  and  showed  himself  so  tho- 
roughly master  of  one  of  the  most  difficult  arts  in  the  world— that  of  conducting 
a  conversation  between  a  boy  and  a  man — that  Ned  Chilton  afterward  declared 
to  his  brother  that  his  "governor-to-be  was  just  the  jolliest  old  brick  there  was 
going." 

The  door  opened  to  admit,  first,  Neria,  looking  like  the  spirit  of  the  mist,  in 
her  dun-colored  barege  and  green  ribbons,  then  Francia,  radiant  in  a  diaphanous 
white  tulle  and  coquettish  little  bows  of  violet  ribbon  that  contrasted  well  with 
her  clear  complexion  and  sparkling  eyes. 

Chilton  went  to  meet  her,  and  his  whispered  admiration  did  not  lessen  the 
bloom  he  admired  or  soothe  the  flutter  of  spirits  in  little  Francia's  heart. 

The  midshipman  stood  afar  off  and  gazed,  his  heart  filled  with  a  boy's  ad- 
miration of  beauty,  his  mind  perturbed  with  a  boy's  wish  to  say  something  ex- 
pressive of  that  admiration,  and  a  boy's  terror  of  making  himself  ridiculous  by 
attempting  it. 

Neria  did  not  know  more  of  boys  than  she  did  of  men,  but  a  graceful  instinct 
led  her  to  his  side. 

"  You  are  not  surprised  at  your  brother's  choice  ?  "  asked  she,  smiling,  as 
she  followed  his  eyes. 

"  In  his  place,  I  shouldn't  have  been  able  to  make  a  choice,"  said  the  mid- 
shipman, gallantly,  although  blushing  scarlet  while  he  spoke,  and  ready  the  next 
instant  to  bite  his  tongue  through  lest  he  had  been  too  forward. 

Neria  was  a  little  surprised,  but  smiled  unaffectedly. 

"  You  sailors  learn  flattery  with  navigation,  I  believe,"  said  she.  "  Have 
you  been  long  at  sea  ?  " 

Ned,  following  this  lead,  launched  into  his  nautical  adventures,  and  by  the 
time  the  carriage  was  announced,  was  quite  at  his  ease,  although  suffering  a 
slight  relapse  under  the  doubt  whether  he  should  offer  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Vaughn, 
or  leave  that  privilege  to  her  husband.  The  question  was  solved  by  Neria  her- 
self, who,  while  still  speaking  to  him,  quietly  slipped  her  hand  under  Vaughn's 
arm,  and  thus  doubly  attended,  followed  Francia,  who  was  already  seated  in  the 
carriage. 

When  the  party  from  Bonniemeer  reached  the  Mermaid's  Cave,  still  kept  by 
our  friend  Burroughs,  now  a  widower,  they  found  the  festivities  in  full  progress. 
Prisoned  in  a  gallery  at  one  end  of  the  large,  low  ball-room,  sat  the  orchestra, 
consisting  of  the  two  violins  and  a  bass  viol  which,  on  Sundays,  officiated  in  the 
village  choir.  The  area  of  the  hall  was  well  filled  with  a  joyous  company,  the 
ladies  as  smartly  dressed  as  their  wardrobes  would  allow,  the  swains  varying  in 
costume,  from  swallow-tailed  dress-coats  with  brass  buttons  to  the  more  becom- 
ing blue  flannel  shirt  and  belted  trowsers — the  fisherman's  ordinary  dress.  A 
prevailing  atmosphere  of  fish  and  good  humor  was  very  apparent,  slightly  viti- 
ated in  certain  cases  by  the  use  of  a  perfume  composed  of  musk  and  bergamot, 
popular,  under  various  titles,  among  the  less  enlightened  classes  of  the  commu- 
nity. 

"  O-h  !  "  crowed  Francia,  clasping  her  hands  over  Chilton's  arm.  "  Isn't  it 
charming?  O,  see  that  man  shuffle,  and  oh,  do  look  at  that  girl  opposite  him." 

"  Barnum  ought  to  get  hold  of  the  whole  affair  and  set  it  up  in  Broadway. 
It  would  draw  immensely,"  replied  the  young  gentleman,  fixing  his  eye-glass 
upon  his  nose  and  coolly  surveying  the  scene. 

Mr.  Vaughn  turned  round  quickly. 


CIPHER.  93 

"  Francia  !  "  said  he  in  a  sterner  voice  than  she  had  often  heard  from  him. 
"  Let  me  beg  you  to  make  no  more  remarks  of  this  sort.  These  people  are  our 
neighbors  and  well-wishers  ;  they  are  in  their  own  quarters  and  enjoying  them- 
selves in  their  own  way.  If  we  come  among  them  at  all,  it  must  be  as  a  civility, 
not  as  an  insult." 

A  deliberate  look  into  Mr.  Chilton's  face  pointed  the  rebuke,  and  when 
Vaughn  quietly  led  the  way  to  the  upper  end  of  the  hall,  Francia  and  her  lover 
mutely  followed.  Here  the  party  was  welcomed  by  Jonas  Merton  and  Cephas 
Wild,  the  hearty  master  of  the  schooner  Mary  Ann,  bound  for  the  Banks  upon 
the  ensuing  day,  and  acting  meantime  as  second  manager  to  the  grand  ball  given 
in  honor  of  the  expedition. 

These  gentlemen  Mr.  Vaughn  presented  to  his  wife  and  daughter,  and  re- 
quested for  himself  an  introduction  to  some  of  the  young  ladies  who  sat  near. 
In  these  introductions  Mr.  Chilton  and  his  brother  shared,  and  the  midship- 
man, resolved  not  to  lose  any  of  his  opportunities,  immediately  led  a  partner  to 
the  foot  of  a  country-dance  already  commenced. 

"  If  you'll  pick  out  a  dance  for  next  time,  Miss  Vaughn,  I'll  speak  to  the 
music  about  it.  Anything  you'd  rather  have,  so's't  we  know  it,"  suggested  Cap- 
tain Wild,  who  had  engaged  Neria  as  his  partner. 

"  But  your  programme  is  arranged  already,  is  it  not  ?  "  asked  she,  in  some 
surprise. 

"  That  don't  make  no  difference.     We'll  dance  anything  you'd  rather." 

Could  the  courtesy  of  the  Tuileries  go  farther  ? 

Neria  expressed  her  appreciation  of  the  politeness,  but  begged  that  the 
dance  might  go  on  in  its  regular  order. 

"  Well,  next  comes  Fisher's  Hornpipe,"  said  the  captain,  consulting  a  scrap  of 
paper  in  his  pocket-book.  "  How  do  you  fancy  that  for  a  dance,  ma'am  ?  " 

Neria  was  forced  to  acknowledge  that  she  had  never  seen  it,  and  begged  to 
have  the  figure  explained  beforehand. 

"  Never  see  Fisher's  Hornpipe  !  Why,  don't  they  dance  up  to  the  city  ?  " 
asked  the  mariner,  in  amazement. 

"  O  yes,  but  seldom  country  dances.  In  those  crowded  rooms,  cotillons  and 
the  round  dances  are  more  convenient,"  replied  Neria,  quite  seriously. 

"  Round  dances  ?     Why,  what  sort  's  that  ?  " 

"  Polkas,  waltzes,  galops,  and  several  others.  Don't  you  dance  the  polka 
here  ? "  asked  Neria,  almost  as  much  surprised  as  the  captain  had  been  at  her 
ignorance  of  Fisher's  Hornpipe. 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  a  feller  here  that  knows  polky  by  sight,"  said  the 
captain,  musingly.  "  Like  enough,  some  of  the  gals  do — they  sort  of  pick  up 
things,  you  know.  But  you  said  waltz,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Like  enough,  now,"  pursued  the  manager,  "Jim  Todd  can  play  a  waltz,  and 
you  and  the  Square  might  dance  it." 

"  O  no,"  exclaimed  Neria,  alarmed.  "  I  had  much  rather  dance  what  the 
rest  do.  Please  tell  me  about  the  Fisher's  Hornpipe." 

"That's  easy  enough.  It's  just  down  the  outside,  down  the  middle,  cast  off 
right  and  left,  and  four  hands  round.  Stop,  we'll  try  it  on  beforehand,  if  you 
and  Miss  Vaughn  will  stand  up  a  minute  'long  o'  me  and  Jonas.  Trypheny,  you 
and  Zeb  stand  up,  too." 

Trypheny,  a  tall,  handsome  brunette,  who  had  just  come  in  with  the  fine- 
looking  young  fisherman  alluded  to  as  Zeb,  took  her  place  in  the  impromptu  set, 


94  CIPHER. 

and  received  Mr.  Chilton's  bold  look  of  admiration  with  a  conscious  smile  and 
toss  of  the  head,  which  made  Zeb's  eyes  travel  wrathfully  in  the  direction  of  her 
coquettish  glance. 

"There,  that's  all  there  is  to  it,"  said  Captain  Wild,  after  taking  his  partner 
twice  through  the  figure.  "  Now  we'll  show  'em  how  it's  done." 

He  led  Neria  to  the  top  of  the  set  already  forming  ;  Francia  and  young  Mer- 
ton  came  next,  and  next  to  them  Chilton  with  Trypheny,  whom  he  had  quietly 
invited  while  she  was  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  her  lover,  who  had  not  consid- 
ered it  necessary  to  explicitly  engage  her  for  the  first  dance,  supposing  it  an  al- 
ready conceded  privilege.  He  now  stood  indignant  and  astonished  just  where 
the  faithless  fair  one  had  deserted  him,  watching  with  wrathful  eyes  the  move- 
ments of  his  rival,  who,  scorning  the  etiquette  of  the  dance,  chose  to  stand  by 
his  partner  while  the  set  was  forming,  talking  in  a  style  of  careless  flattery  rath- 
er appalling,  but  utterly  captivating  to  the  rustic  belle. 

"  Rafe  is  making  a  fool  of  that  girl,  and  she  doesn't  know  it,"  whispered 
Francia,  laughingly,  to  Neria,  who  shook  her  head  disapprovingly;  while  Vaughn, 
who  did  not  dance,  watched  the  movements  of  the  young  man  with  an  uneasy 
eye. 

The  other  set  was  ambitiously  headed  by  Ned  Chilton,  who  had  secured  the 
prettiest  girl  in  the  room  as  his  partner,  and  left  two  others  in  the  full  convic- 
tion that  he  had  rather  have  danced  with  them.  The  music  began,  and  Neria, 
floating  up  and  down  the  long  lines,  and  through  the  intricacies  of  "cast-off" 
and  right  and  left,  with  perfect  grace  and  accuracy,  seemed  to  shed  upon  the 
homely  dance  and  dancers  an  atmosphere  of  fitness  and  refinement  not  always 
to  be  found  among  the  dances  and  dancers  of  the  salons. 

"  I  was  wrong,"  thought  Vaughn.  "  This  contact  does  not  degrade  her — it 
elevates  them.  I  did  injustice  to  the  strength  of  her  influence." 

Next  came  Francia,  who,  commencing  with  the  gravest  propriety  of  bearing, 
found  herself,  before  she  reached  the  end,  so  carried  away  by  the  exhilarating 
motion,  the  sharp,  quick  time  of  the  melody,  and  the  half  subdued  impulse  of 
her  partner,  that  not  Trypheny  herself  made  the  chasst  down  the  middle  so 
rapidly,  or  reached  the  foot  in  such  a  state  of  breathless  mirth. 

"  Take  care,  little  girl,"  whispered  her  father,  as  she  returned  to  his  side ; 
"don't  fall  into  the  other  extreme,  and  be  too  familiar  instead  of  too  supercili- 
ous. Watch  Neria,  and  see  how  she  bears  herself." 

Captain  Wild  had  no  sooner  seated  his  partner  than  he  sought  the  music 
gallery,  and  the  result  of  his  instructions  to  the  band  presently  appeared  in  a 
lively  strain  from  the  first  violin,  greeted  by  Francia  with  the  exclamation, 

"A  waltz  !  a  waltz  !  How  perfectly  splendid,  only  I  don't  care  to  waltz  with 
all  these — gentlemen  !  Must  I,  papa,  if  they  ask  me  ?" 

"  I  fancy  there  is  small  danger,"  said  Vaughn,  laughing.  "  Captain  Wild 
just  said  there  was  not  probably  a  man  in  the  room  who  had  ever  seen  a  waltz, 
and  this  one  is  played  entirely  for  our  benefit.  Mr.  Chilton  is  coming  for  you." 

"Will  you  waltz,  Franc?"  asked  Chilton,  approaching. 

"  Certainly  ;  but  tell  them  to  play  more  slowly." 

The  message  was  transmitted,  and  Francia  floated  away  upon  the  arm  of  her 
lover,  who,  however  he  might  fail  in  certain  traits  of  morality  and  honor,  cer- 
tainly possessed  the  cardinal  virtue  of  dancing,  to  perfection,  while  Francia  her- 
self deserved  the  title  of  Terpsichore. 

"  Will  you  do  me  the  honor,  Mrs.  Vaughan  ?  "  asked  the  midshipman,  blush- 
ing and  bowing. 


CIPHER.  95 

"Thank  you,  but  I  only  waltz  with  Mr.  Vaughn,"  said  Neria,  in  a  low  voice  ; 
and  Ned  went  to  look  among  his  new  friends  for  some  one  who  knew  how  to 
waltz. 

Vaughn  hesitated  whether  he  should  accept  the  sweet  intimation  of  a  reso- 
lution he  had  never  imagined,  and  then  asking  himself  why  he  should  be  denied 
a  privilege  which,  with  most  ladies,  any  stranger  might  claim,  he  smilingly  took 
his  wife's  hand  and  said,  "  Come,  then  !  " 

Vaughn  had  "waltzed  in  Vienna  to  the  music  of  the  elder  Strauss,  and  the 
"  gh  born"  frauleins  and  countesses  who  had  been  his  partners  were  wont  to 
assure  him  that  he  danced  better  than  their  own  countrymen.  With  a  difference, 
perhaps,  he  did,  but  the  difference  was  on  the  side  of  stateliness,  and  a  certain 
grandeur  of  motion,  that  never  deserted  him.  The  waltz  is  the  only  round 
dance  in  which  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  look  like  a  hero,  and  the  waltz  was  the 
only  round  dance  to  which  Vaughn  ever  committed  himself.  Neria's  style  had 
also  its  peculiarity.  In  dancing,  especially  in  waltzing,  she  seemed  to  lose  her 
slight  affinity  for  earth  altogether,  and  airily  glided  over  the  floor  like  a  dream 
of  beauty,  visible  but  immaterial. 

"  Lean  upon  my  arm  a  little,  my  mist-wreath,"  murmured  Vaughn,  drawing 
her  closer  to  his  breast.  "  You  are  too  much  of  a  fairy." 

Neria  glanced  smiling  up,  and  her  warm,  pure  breath  swept  his  cheek. 
Vaughn  could  hardly  repress  the  wild  desire  to  raise  her  in  his  arms,  and  cover 
those  smiling  lips  with  the  kisses  tingling  on  his  own.  With  a  terrible  effort  he 
paused,  and  released  her  from  his  embrace.  "  That  is  enough,"  said  he,  abrupt- 
ly, and  Neria  looked  wonderingly  into  his  face  for  the  cause  of  the  harsh  change 
in  his  tone. 

"  Are  you  dizzy  ?  "  asked  she,  kindly. 

Vaughn  recovered  himself,  and  smiled.  "  It  is  some  time  since  I  waltzed," 
said  he,  "and  I  find  it  does  not  agree  with  me.  I  shall  not  try  again,  but  if  you 
like  it,  do  not  hesitate  to  accept  such  partners  as  your  taste  approves.  You 
must  not  give  it  up  because  you  are  married." 

Neria  only  answered  with  a  smile,  and  the  music  ceased. 

"  Take  partners  for  chorus  jig,"  shouted  Jonas  Merton,  and  Captain  Wild, 
after  a  whispered  word  with  Mr.  Vaughn,  presented  the  young  fisherman  called 
Zeb  to  Francia  as  "  Mr.  Lewis,"  while  an  aspirant  for  Neria's  hand  appeared  in 
the  shape  of  an  uncouth  lobster-catcher,  named  Barrows,  whose  bandy  legs, 
crooked  fingers,  and  beady  black  eyes  would  of  themselves  have  suggested  his 
avocation.  Neria,  a  little  startled,  and  not  a  little  repelled,  replied  to  his  invita- 
tion somewhat  coldly. 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  am  rather  tired,  and  will  sit  still  this  dance." 

A  look  of  blank  mortification  displayed  itself  upon  the  lobster-catcher's  face, 
"'xcuse  me,"  said  he,  "for  taking  the  liberty  to  ask  you." 

Neria's  quick  feelings  were  touched,  and  she  made  room  upon  the  bench  be- 
side her.  "  I  do  not  know  this  dance,"  said  she.  "  Chorus  jig  they  call  it,  do 
they  not  ?  " 

"  Yes'm.  Like  enough  you'd  find  it  kind  o'  rough.  A  body  gets  pritty  well 
tuckered  out  by  the  time  they're  at  the  bottom  on  !t."  said  Barrows,  glancing 
wistfully  at  the  vacant  seat,  but  not  daring  to  take  it. 

"  Do  you  go  away  with  the  fishermen  to-morrow  ?  "  pursued  Neria,  smiling 
in  spite  of  herself  at  the  gaping  look  of  admiration  with  which  the  lobster  man 
regarded  her. 

"  No'm.     I'm  a  lobsterer,  I  am." 


96  CIPHER. 

"  Indeed  ?     And  how  do  you  catch  lobsters  ?" 

The  chorus  jig  was  shorter  than  the  answer  of  the  delighted  Barrows  ;  and 
before  it  was  over,  Mrs.  Vaughn,  with  no  compromise  of  dignity  or  good  taste, 
had  secured  a  humble  admirer  for  life. 

Francia,  meanwhile,  was  undergoing  a  somewhat  startling  experience.  Zeb 
had  placed  her  at  the  head  of  the  dance,  and  briefly  explained  the  figure,  part 
of  it,  by  the  direction,  "first  lady  turn  second  gentleman  until  the  music  is 
through."  Pondering  a  little  upon  this  curious  phrase,  Francia  arrived  at  the 
designated  point  in  the  dance,  and  gave  both  hands  to  a  sta'wart  young  fellow, 
who,  with  a  little  smile  of  amazement,  enveloped  the  dainty  offering  in  his  own 
hands,  as  brown  and  hard  as  a  well-dried  side  of  leather.  Then  they  turned, 
and  they  turned  again,  and  again,  and  again,  and  again,  until  Francia,  dizzy,  bewil- 
dered, and  somewhat  indignant,  was  very  glad  of  the  aid  of  the  young  fisher- 
man's sturdy  grasp  in  keeping  her  upon  her  feet.  The  next  gentleman  per- 
formed the  same  evolution,  and,  finding  that  this  was  the  regular  order  of  pro- 
cedure, Francia  entered  into  the  spirit  of  it,  and  allowed  herself  to  be  twirled 
as  rapidly  and  for 'as  long  a  time  as  the  music  and  her  opponent's  strength 
allowed.  Arriving  at  the  foot,  she  perceived,  by  looking  up  the  dance,  that  she 
had  been  treated  with  the  greatest  circumspection,  and  that  the  tours  de  force 
in  progress  between  the  fishermen  and  their  more  usual  partners  were  quite  an- 
other affair  from  what  she  had  experienced.  In  fact,  the  less  agile  and  athletic 
young  ladies  were  continually  whirled  off  their  feet,  and  fell  either  to  their  knees 
or  into  the  arms  of  the  whirler,  who,  to  do  justice,  was  generally  ready  to  offer 
aid.  One  young  lady,  of  rather  diminutive  stature,  became  so  exasperated  by 
repeated  occurrences  of  this  nature,  that  upon  being  whirled  to  the  floor  by  a 
powerful  young  fellow,  standing  in  relation  of  cousin  to  her,  she  sprang  to  her 
feet,  and  inflicted  a  box  upon  his  ear  so  heartily  as  to  affect  him  to  tears,  and 
every  one  else  to  laughter,  while  mademoiselle  herself  impartially  indulged  in 
both. 

Four-hand  reels  followed,  and  Ned  Chilton  won  the  admiration  of  the  com- 
pany by  his  skill  in  "shuffling  out  the  tune,"  and  bringing  down  the  final  stamp 
on  the  exact  turn  of  the  measure.  His  only  rival  was  his  partner,  Trypheny, 
who,  with  her  hands  upon  her  slender  waist,  head  set  saucily  back,  and  lips  and 
cheeks  glowing  scarlet,  looked,  as  Rafe  Chilton  found  an  opportunity  to  whisper, 
"  Quite  too  charming."  So  thought  Zeb  Lewis,  who  had  given  up  dancing  and 
devoted  himself  to  communion  with  the  green-eyed  monster,  who  prompted  him, 
as  the  reel  finished,  to  seek  his  betrothed,  and  emphatically  inform  her  that  if 
she  was  ever  going  home  with  him  again  she  had  "  got  to  go  now."  Trypheny, 
somewhat  awed  by  the  suppressed  emotion  in  her  lover's  face,  submitted  to  au- 
thority, and,  with  one  sidelong  look  of  farewell  in  Mr.  Chilton's  direction,  al- 
lowed herself  to  be  led  away. 

The  party  from  Bonniemeer  soon  followed,  leaving  the  majority  of  the  revel- 
lers to  dance  until  the  day  dawn  summoned  them  to  their  hardy  toil. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE  GREAT  ORGAN. 

A  FEW  weeks   after  the    ball,   the   post    brought  in   a  letter  from    Mrs. 
Livingstone   to   Neria,    in   which    among   other   matters   she   mentioned   that 


CIPHER.  97 

Dr.  Luttrell  was  Iookir>g  for  a  quiet  house  upon  the  sea-shore  where  he  might 
spend  the  summer  with  his  wife,  who  was  very  much  of  an  invalid,  and  sug- 
gested that  Cragness  would  probably  suit  him  exactly,  and  give  some  pleasant 
neighbors  to  Bonniemeer.  In  fact  she  acknowledged  she  had  already  men- 
tioned the  house  to  Dr.  Luttrell,  who  was  much  pleased  with  her  description  of 
it,  and  only  waited  for  her  permission  to  formally  apply  for  it. 

This  suggestion  Neria  referred  at  once  to  Vaughn,  without  even  confessing  a 
certain  repugnance  in  her  own  mind,  to  seeing  strangers  installed  in  the  shad- 
owy rooms  so  associated  in  her  mind  with  her  old  friend  and  teacher,  Gillies. 
Vaughn,  however,  who  had  seldom  been  at  Cragness,  and  regarded  it  simply  as 
a  piece  of  property,  thought  it  very  well  to  turn  it  to  account,  and  in  compliance 
with  his  advice,  Neria  answered  Claudia's  quasi  application  so  favorably  that 
in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  Dr.  Luttrell  himself  came  down  to  look  at  the  prem- 
ises, previous  to  engaging  them. 

Mr,  Vaughn  drove  over  with  him  to  Cragness,  to  the  consternation  of  Mrs. 
Brume,  who  was,  as  she  expressed  the  situation,  "all  in  the  suds" — a  dilemma 
shared  by  her  lord  and  master,  who,  as  the  gentlemen  drove  up,  was  to  be  seen 
at  the  back  door,  with  rueful  face  and  reluctant  arms,  splashing  a  heavy  "pound- 
er "  up  and  down  in  a  barrel  half  filled  with  dirty  clothes  and  hot  water. 

Nancy,  who,  through  the  mists  of  her  tub,  had  seen  the  approaching  visit- 
ors, found  time,  before  they  fairly  stopped  at  the  door,  to  clutch  off  the  un- 
comely cap  adorning  her  grey  hairs,  to  replace  it  with  a  smarter  one,  to  put  on 
a  collar  and  stern  brooch  of  Scotch  pebble,  and  to  tie 'a  white  apron  about  her  waist 
as  tightly  as  if,  like  a  Hindoo  devotee,  she  sought  to  cut  herself  in  twain,  by 
way  of  penance  for  her  sins.  Finally,  she  wiped  her  face  so  vigorously  upon 
the  discarded  tow  apron  as  to  impart  to  her  features  a  genial  glow,  not  unlike 
that  of  the  sun  setting  behind  a  fog-bank.  Then  she  darted  to  the  back  door, 
and,  catching  Reuben  by  the  arm,  said,  in  a  rapid  undertone : 

"  Go  round  to  the  door — there's  folks  !  " 

And,  after  all  this  by-play,  the  daughter  of  Eve  stood  in  her  door,  a  minute 
later,  the  picture  of  innocent  surprise,  as  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Well,  I  declare  for  it,  Mr.  Vaughn  !  I  don't  see  how  you  got  up  'thout 
some  of  us  seeing  you." 

Vaughn  returned  her  greeting  with  the  debonair  manner  which  made  him  the 
idol  of  his  humble  neighbors,  .introduced  his  companion,  and  mentioned  their 
errand. 

Mrs.  Brune  readily  accompanied  them  through  the  house,  not  unwilling,  per- 
haps, that  her  employer  should  see  how  faithful  she  had  been  to  her  duties,  al- 
though left  without  supervision  or  control. 

In  the  library  all  stood  as  it  had  done  upon  the  night  when  its  last  master 
departed  thence  to  voyage  upon  unknown  seas,  with  an  unknown  pilot  at  the 
helm.  Over  the  fireplace,  the  knight  in  golden  armor,  his  face  covered  with  his 
helmet  bars,  still  guarded  the  secret  of  the  place,  and,  from  the  scroll  at  his 
feet,  still  faintly  glimmered  the  proud  device,  "  Dieu,  le  roy,  et  le  foy  du 
Vaughn." 

"  A  somewhat  gloomy  chamber,  this."  said  Dr.  Luttrell,  looking  about  him, 
with  a  slight  shiver. 

"  Decidedly  so,"  assented  Vaughn,  striding  to  the  window. 

"The  last  proprietor  and  one  of  (he  servants  died  here  very  suddenly,  I  un- 
derstand," pursued  Luttrell.  "Was  it  in  this  room  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so.     Do  such  associations  disturb  you  ? "  asked  Vaughn. 


98  CIPHER. 

"  Certain!}'  not.  I  am  not  superstitious  by  nature,  "and  a  medical  education 
blunts  one's  mind  to  imaginative  terrors  very  thoroughly.  I  was  wondering 
whether  there  is  anything  unhealthy  about  the  place.  Mrs.  Luttrell,  as  you 
know,  is  quite  an  invalid." 

"  Candidly  speaking,"  returned  Vaughn,  "  I  should  think  the  gloom  and 
darkness  of  this  room  would  be  very  depressing  to  an  invalid  ;  and  what  affects 
the  spirits  is  apt  to  affect  the  body,  especially  when  the  latter  is  unsound." 

"That  is  true  in  some  cases,"  s^id  Luttrell,  reflectively  ;  but  my  wife  is  not 
in  the  least  fanciful,  and  cares  very  little  for  the  moral  or  imaginative  atmos- 
phere surrounding  her,  so  that  she  does  not  miss  the  material  luxuries  to  which 
.the  is  accustomed." 

Vaughn  simply  bowed,  not  choosing  to  enter  into  a  discussion  of  Mrs.  Lut- 
ti ell's  peculiarities,  especially  with  Mrs.  Luttrell's  husband. 

"  What  is  this,  an  organ  ? "  asked  the  doctor,  penetrating,  with  his  keen 
gaze,  the  dusky  corner  where  poor  Gillies's  familiar  was  niched  into  a  recess  built 
to  accommodate  it. 

"  Yes,  and  a  fine  one,  as  I  am  informed.  Mr.  Gillies  imported  it,  at  a  con- 
siderable cost,  from  Germany." 

"Ah?  I  have  done  a  little  in  this  way  Tnyself.  Indeed,  there  are  few 
things  I  have  not  tried,  and  still  fewer  which  I  have  not  found  wanting,"  said 
Dr.  Luttrell,  turning  the  key  in  the  door  of  the  organ  and  throwing  it  open. 
"Yes,"  continued  he,  "this"  looks  like  quite  a  grand  affair.  I  should  like  to  try 
it,  if  you  will  not  be  bored,  Mr.  Vaughn." 

Of  course  Vaughn  was  delighted  at  the  prospect,  and  courteously  seated  him- 
self to  listen. 

"  But  the  bellows — how  is  that  managed  ?  Does  some  one  outside  attend  to 
it  ?"  asked  Luttrell,  looking  about  him. 

Vaughn  did  not  know ;  but  Mrs.  Brume,  on  being  summoned,  explained  that 
Mr.  Gillies,  not  choosing  to  be  dependent  on  human  aid  for  his  capricious  min- 
strelsy, had  invented  a  piece  of  mechanism,  and  had  it  attached  to  the  organ  in 
such  manner  that  he  could  introduce  air  by  his  own  action. 

This  machinery  was  set  in  motion  by  turning  a  crank,  which  she  pointed  out. 

"  Aha,  that  is  easily  done,"  said  Luttrell,  seizing  the  handle  and  attempting 
to  move  it ;  but  the  rusted  wheels  refused  to  turn,  and  when,  applying  more 
force,  he  jerked  and  pushed  the  handle  violently,  it  suddenly  gave  way,  and  a 
loud  whirring  noise  within  the  organ  told  that  some  fatal  injury  had  been  com- 
mitted. 

"The  organ  is  faithful  to  its  master.  It  will  serve  no  other  man,"  said 
Vaughn,  lightly,  as  Luttrell,  half  angry,  half  mortified,  began  an  apology  for  the 
mischief  he  had  done. 

"  With  your  consent  I  will  make  it  serve  me,  if  I  send  to  Germany  for  the 
man  who  built  it  to  repair  it,"  said  Luttrell,  eyeing,  with  grim  determination, 
the  thing  that  had  foiled  him. 

"  Pray  do  as  you  like  with  it,  if  you  come  here,"  said  Vaughn,  rising ;  "  but 
the  air  of  this  gloomy  room  is  chill  as  that  of  a  tomb.  Let  us  go." 

"  As  chill  as  that  of  a  tomb,"  repeated  Doctor  Luttrell,  softly,  as  he  followed 
his  host  from  the  room. 

A  few  days  later  Vaughn  received  a  letter  announcing  that  his  late  guest  en- 
gaged the  house  and  domain  of  Cragness,  upon  terms  already  specified,  and 
would  take  possession  as  soon  as  the  summer  weather  should  be  fairly  estab- 
lished. 


CIPHER.  99 

CHAPTER   XXII. 


WHEN  Mrs.  Rhee  left  Bonniemeer,  just  previous  to  Vaughn's  marriage,  she 
had  gone  no  farther  than  Carrick,  and  still  kept  up  a  sort  of  left-handed  connec- 
tion with  her  old  home  through  the  negress,  Chloe,  who,  in  the  fine  summer  days, 
would  frequently  creep  over  the  two  miles  of  road,  staff  in  hand,  peering  side- 
long at  every  creature  she  met,  and  muttering  to  herself,  until  all  the  children, 
and  some  of  their  elders,  were  quite  sure  that  she  was  a  witch.  Through  the 
old  nutse,  Mrs.  Rhee  constantly  sent  messages  of  regard  and  remembrance  to 
Francia,  with  numerous  humble  petitions  that  she  would  come  and  visit  her,  if 
only  for  a  few  moments.  Francia's  kind  heart  would  not  allow  her  to  neglect 
these  petitions,  and  the  consequence  was  that  she  often  called  upon  the  whilom 
housekeeper,  until  one  day,  her  father  passing  Mrs.  Rhee's  cottage,  and  seeing 
his  daughter's  pony  at  the  door,  entered  the  little  parlor,  where  he  found  the 
young  lady  seated  in  Mrs.  Rhee's  lap,  while  a  refection  of  cake  and  currant 
wine  upon  the  table  showed  how  she  had  been  amusing  herself. 

In  a  few  decided  words  Vaughn  informed  his  daughter  that  he  was  ready  to 
escort  her  home,  and,  when  she  had  gone  out,  he  added  to  Mrs.  Rhee  : 

"  And  I  do  not  wish  Francia  to  be  upon  these  terms  with  you.  It  is  not  in 
woman's  nature  that  you  should  keep  our  secret  inviolable  under  such  circum- 
stances." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  shall  always  keep  it,"  returned  Mrs.  Rhee,  defiantly. 
"  You  have  pleased  yourself  in  marrying,  why  should  I  not  please  mys.elf  also  ?  " 

"  Because  you  dare  not  brave  my  anger,"  said  Vaughn,  quietly. 

Mrs.  Rhee  looked  at  his  white  face  and  steady  eyes,  and  turned  away  her 
head. 

Vaughn  strode  to  the  door,  but  returned  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Let  us  be  friends,  Anita,  for  the  sake  of  the  dead,  and  of  the  past — a  past 
which  no  future  can  undo  ;  but  remember  that  I  am  master." 

The  woman  took  his  hand,  and  kissed  it  passionately. 

"  You  are  master,"  said'  she,  and  when  he  was  gone  gave  way  to  a  tropic 
storm  of  sobs  and  tears. 

So  Francia  was  informed  that  she  was  to  go  no  more  to  see  Mrs.  Rhee,  with- 
out especial  leave  ;  and  soon  lost  all  inclination  to  do  so,  in  gathering  anxieties 
and  apprehensions  caused  by  her  lover's  irregularities,  reported  to  her  by  cer- 
tain officious  correspondents  in  the  city ;  while  his  own  letters  grew  every  week 
briefer  and  more  unsatisfactory. 

Old  Chloe's  walks  to  Carrick  remained  undisturbed,  as  were  indeed  all  her 
other  movements  ;  for  Vaughn  had  advised  his  new  housekeeper  that  the  old 
nurse  was  a  privileged  person,  not  to  be  controlled  or  reproved  by  less 
authority  than  his  own  or  Mrs.  Vaughn's. 

It  was  to  Neria,  then,  that  Mrs.  Barlow  came  one  day,  and,  after  some  pream- 
ble, inquired  if  Mrs.  Vaughn  knew  that  Chloe  was  in  the  occasional  habit  of 
leaving  the  house  privately,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  absenting  herself  for 
several  hours.  Where  she  went,  or  what  she  did  during  these  periods,  Mrs. 
Barlow  could  not  pretend  to  say,  nor  had  even  inquired.  If  it  were  one  of  the 
maids  she  would  not  be  long  in  finding  out,  continued  the  worthy  woman,  but 
Chloe  was  different,  Mr.  Vaughn  had  said  she  wasn't  under  any  authority  but 
his  own,  and  perhaps  he  wouldn't  even  like  to  have  her  watched.  She  had 
hardly  liked  to  speak,  but  concluded  Mrs.  Vaughn  had  better  know. 


loo  CIPHER. 

Neria  quietly  assured  her  that  she  had  done  quite  right  in  speaking,  and 
promising  to  attend  to  the  matter,  dismissed  the  housekeeper,  (a  worthy,  but 
commonplace  woman,  whose  pride  of  office  had  been  somewhat  wounded  by 
Mr.  Vaughn's  injunction),  far  better  satisfied  with  her  position  and  her  mistress 
than  she  had  been  inclined  to  find  herself. 

"  She's  got  a  kind  of  a  tact  about  her,  Miss  Vaughn  has,  that  sets  every- 
thing straight  that  she  touches  with  so  much  as  her  finger-end,"  was  the  deci- 
sion that  evening  confided  by  Mrs.  Barlow  to  James,  the  English  groom,  whom 
Vaughn  had  long  since  promoted  to  the  position  of  body-servant,  and  who  had 
gradually  assumed  various  other  duties  which,  in  an  English  establishment, 
would  have  belonged  to  the  office  of  steward  or  major-domo. 

"  You're  right,  there,  Mrs.  Barlow,"  replied  James,  on  the  present  occasion, 
"and  the  Squire's  done  a  better  thing  this  time  than  he  did  before,  I  can  promise 
you." 

"  You  knew  the  first  Miss  Vaughn,  then  ? "  asked  the  housekeeper,  curi- 
ously. 

"  Yes,  I  knew  her,"  replied  close-mouthed  James,  picking  up  his  cap  and 
caving  the  room. 

It  was  on  the  ensuing  night  that  Neria,  unatfle  to  sleep,  sat  at  her  window, 
dreamily  enjoying  the  beauty  of  the  moonlight  view,  and  listening  to  the  distant 
beat  of  the  rising  tide  upon  the  beach.  The  low  sound  of  a  closing  door  startled 
her  from  her  reverie,  for  the  hour  was  past  midnight,  and  the  orderly  household 
had  long  since  retired  to  rest.  Suddenly  the  housekeeper's  story  returned  to  hei 
mind,  and  she  at  once  concluded  that  the  untimely  wanderer  must  be  old  Chloe. 
A  sudden  impulse  to  solve  for  herself  the  mystery  of  the  nurse's  nocturnal 
wanderings,  took  possession  of  her  mind,  and  hastily  wrapping  herself  in  a  dark 
cloak,  with  the  hood  drawn  over  her  head,  and  protecting  her  feet  from  the 
heavy  dew,  she  glided  down  the  stairs  and  out  at  the  garden-door,  which,  as 
she  had  correctly  judged,  was  the  one  she  had  heard  so  cautiously  closed. 
Outside,  she  paused  a  moment  to  look  about  her.  Far  down  the  garden  path  a 
distorted  and  crouching  figure  crept  along  between  the  roses,  and  reaching  the 
end,  passed  through  the  little  gate  leading  to  the  grove,  beyond  which  lay  the 
pine  wood  and  the  lake.  Swift  and  silent  as  a  shadow,  Neria  followed,  bearing 
with  her  the  perfume  of  the  roses  and  the  lilies,  that  opened  wide  their  chalices 
to  cast  incense  upon  her  path,  for  all  Nature  loved  Neria,  as  Neria  loved 
Nature. 

Through  the  garden  and  through  the  dim  oak  wood  they  passed,  until  at  its 
farther  edge  Neria  .paused,  and,  holding  herself  in  the  shadow,  watched  atten- 
tively the  motions  of  the  old  negress,  who,  advancing  to  the  foot  of  an  oak  tree, 
standing  by  itself  in  a  little  glade,  busied  herself  in  removing  from  its  hollow 
interior  an  accumulation  of  brush  and  leaves.  These  she  laid  on  one  side,  and 
then,  thrusting  her  arm  far  into  the  cavity,  groped  for  a  few  moments,  and  finally 
brought  out  an  immense  toad.  Him  she  set  upon  the  ground  in  the  moonlight, 
and,  prostrating  herself  before  him,  appeared  to  offer  some  prayer  or  supplication, 
to  which  the  singular  deity  ungraciously  replied  by  sparkling  eyes  and  swelling 
throat.  Rising  to  her  feet,  the  negress  described,  with  the  sharp-pointed  stick 
in  her  hand,  a  circle  some  three  feet  in  diameter  upon  the  sward,  and,  baring 
her  head  and  feet,  paced  three  times  around  it,  chanting  in  a  dim  unearthly 
voice  some  barbarous  rune,  ending  with  a  wild  wail  to  which  the  screech-owl  in 
the  neighboring  wood  shrieked  response.  The  circle  complete,  the  negress 
placed  the  toad  carefully  in  its  centre,  and  describing  another  circle  precisely 


CIPHER.  lor 

similar,  took  her  own  position  in  its  midst  in  an  attitude  as  nearly  resembling 
that  of  the  toad  as  her  form  was  capable  of  assuming.  She  now  addressed  to 
him  some  words,  still  in  the  unknown  tongue  of  the  chant ;  and  after  waiting  a 
few  moments,  and  finding  that  he  remained  motionless,  took  from  her  pocket  a 
little  vial  and  poured  upon  his  head  a  few  drops  of  liquid,  which  apparently  put 
the  poor  creature  into  a  state  of  frantic  pain,  causing  him  to  writhe,  leap,  and  con- 
tort himself  into  every  possible  shape.  Without  losing  one  of  these  motions, 
the  negress  applied  herself  to  imitating  them  as  exactly  as  possible,  and  the 
wondering  spectator  in  the  wood  knew  not  whether  to  find  the  sight  more  gro- 
tesque or  horrible,  as  the  swollen  reptile  and  the  negress,  deformed  almost  be- 
low humanity,  vied  with  each  other  in  such  gruesome  gambols  as  might  fit  the 
familiars  of  witch  and  warlock  sporting  in  the  moonlight  upon  some  haunted 
heath. 

Exhausted  at  last,  the  toad  turned  upon  his  back  and  lay  apparently  lifeless. 
Still  Chloe  imitated  him,  and  lay  like  an  ugly  corpse  upon  the  sparkling  sward. 
Presently,  however,  she  cautiously  arose,  and  taking  the  toad  in  her  hands, 
bathed  his  head  with  the  abundant  dew,  and  warmed  him  in  her  bosom.  When 
he  began  to  show  signs  of  returning  life  she  moistened  her  finger  in  his  mouth, 
and  signed  herself  upon  the  brow  and  breast,  muttered  another  unintelligible 
charm,  and  finally  replaced  him  in  the  tree,  securely  covering  him  with  the 
debris  under  which  she  had  found  him. 

•Her  next  movement  was  to  carefully  pluck  the  grass  from  the  spot  where  the 
toad  had  lain  in  his  final  exhaustion,  and  also  that  upon  which  her  own  head 
had  rested  at  the  same  moment.  This  she  carefully  wrapped  in  the  leaf  of  a  plant 
which  she  had  plucked  as  she  came  through  the  wood,  and  then  turned  her 
steps  toward  home,  passing  close  beside  Neria,  whose  slender  figure  was  hidden 
by  the  trunk  of  a  giant  oak.  As  silently  and  as  stealthily  as  they  had  come, 
the  two  shadowy  figures  returned  toward  the  house,  and  the  negress  reaching  it 
first,  entered,  and  closed  the  door. 

Neria,  who  was  close  behind,  heard  the  heavy  bolts  shot  into  their  places, 
and  remained  for  a  moment  in  doubt  as  to  her  own  course,  not  wishing  to  let 
the  negress  know  that  she  had  been  watched,  and  yet  seeing  no  other  way  of 
effecting  her  own  entrance.  After  a  moment  of  hesitation,  she  glided  along  the 
terrace  to  the  window  of  the  little  room  used  as  Vaughn's  private  study.  This 
room  communicated  with  her  own  apartments  by  a  winding  stair,  and  Vaughn 
had  of  late  converted  it  into  a  sleeping-room,  averring  that  his  late  and  uncer- 
tain hours  of  retiring  made  it  more  convenient.  The  maidenly  instincts  which 
Neria's  brief  and  peculiar  married  life  had  not  overcome,  made  her  hesi- 
tate and  tremble  in  tapping  at  this  window,  and  when  at  last  she  did,  it  was  so 
lightly  that  Vaughn,  lying  awake  to  indulge  the  bitter  thoughts  which  in  the 
daylight  he  was  better  able  to  withstand,  hardly  knew  whether  the  sound 
were  other  than  the  pattering  of  the  vine  leaves  against  the  glass.  It  was  re- 
peated, and  drawing  aside  the  curtain,  he  looked  out.  Neria,  shrinking  away 
from  the  window,  stood  motionless,  draped  in  her  dark  cloak,  her  pale  face  dimly 
showing  beneath  the  hood,  the  moonlight  sparkling  in  the  dew-drops  that 
gemmed  her  drooping  head. 

Vaughn  threw  open  the  window. 

"  Neria  !  "  said  he,  in  a  hushed  voice.     "  Is  this  really  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  Sieur.     Do  you  not  know  me  ?" 

"  You  came  so  spirit-like  it  might  have  been  your  wraith.  But  where  art 
you  going — what  is  amiss  ?  " 


102  CIPHER. 

"  Nothing,  Sieur,  but  I  want  to  come  in." 

"  To  come  in  !  What,  the  queen  of  Bonniemeer  and  of  its  master,  wander- 
ing forlorn  through  the  night  and  begging  shelter  for  her  royal  head  !  "  exclaimed 
Vaughn,  gay  in  the  sudden  revulsion  from  his  first  terror.  "  Will  you  come  ia 
at  this  window,  or  must  I  open  the  hall-door  for  your  majesty  ? " 

"  Can  I  come  in  at  the  window  ?  "  asked  Neria,  dubiously. 

"  Surely.  Give  me  your  two  hands,  put  your  foot  on  the  ledge  in  the  stone- 
work, and — so ! " 

He  drew  her  in  at  the  window  with  the  word,  and  as  she  lay  a  moment  in 
his  arms,  pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 

She  smiled,  but  struggled  to  her  feet.  He  immediately  released  her,  and 
asked,  gravely, 

'•  Why  are  you  out  so  late,  and  so  thinly  dressed,  dear  child?  See,  your 
hair,  your  cloak,  are  drenched  with  dew.  Your  hands  are  cold  and  damp — you 
are  as  pale  in  the  moonlight  as  a  true  ghost.  Explain." 

Neria  sank  into  an  arm-chair,  for  she  was  indeed  almost  exhausted,  and  told 
her  story  as  briefly  as  she  might.  Her  husband  listened  attentively. 

"  The  poor  old  creature  must  be  deranged  in  mind,"  said  he.  "  She  is  very 
old,  for  she  was  already  past  middle  life  when  I  first  saw  her." 

"  She  carpe  here  to  take  care  of  Francia  and  me,  did  she'  not  ?  "  asked  Neria, 
a  little  surprised  at  his  hesitation. 

"  No,  dear,  she  was  here  before.  I  have  always  taken  care  of  her  on  account 
of  past  services,  and  we  must  still  protect  her,  although  it  may  become  necessary 
to  restrain  these  wanderings.  Can  you  imagine  any  object  in  the  strange  pro- 
ceedings you  saw  to-night  ?  " 

"  None,"  said  Neria,  hesitating.  "  None  that  I  can  mention  with  any  show 
of  reason,  and  yet  I  felt — O,  Sieur,  I  felt  like  one  who  sees  his  scaffold  built 
before  his  eyes.  I  cannot  tell  why.  I  know  it  is  fanciful,  perhaps  unjust,  and 
yet  I  feel  sure  that  all  these  spells  and  charms  were  in  some  way  directed 
against  me." 

She  fell  into  a  fit  of  aguish  shivering  as  she  spoke,  and  raised  her  face  to 
Vaughn  like  a  little  child  who  seeks  protection.  He  stooped  and  took  her  in 
his  arms,  gathering  her  to  his  broad  breast  with  an  impulse  of  yearning  tender- 
ness not  to  be  withstood. 

"  My  poor  little  dove,  my  timid  nestling  !  "  murmured  he,  "  who  would  harm 
you  ?  What  creature  so  monstrous  as  to  wish  you  ill  ?  Do  you  not  know  that 
my  life  stands  between  you  and  hurt  ?  My  darling,  my  darling,  may  I  never  tell 
you  how  much  I  love  you  ? " 

Neria  nestled  into  his  arms  and  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast,  with  a  sigh  of 
content.  Vaughn's  heart  gave  a  great  throb.  Had  the  happiness  for  which  he  no 
longer  hoped,  come  to  him  now  of  its  own  sweet  will  ?  Did  Neria  love  him  at 
last,  wife-like  ?  He  tried  to  deny  the  hope,  he  tried  to  doubt,  he  tried  to  reason, 
and  in  the  end,  with  a  terrible  shock,  the  great  love  that  he  had  bound  down 
within  his  heart  burst  its  bonds,  and  rising  in  its  might,  took  possession  of  the 
man  who  had  striven  to  deny  its  God-given  life.  He  pressed  her  to  his  heart, 
he  covered  her  lips,  her  eyes,  her  brow,  her  hair  with  kisses  ;  he  murmured  in 
her  ear  every  caressing  name,  every  passionate  endearment  which  he  had  been 
wont  in  half-bitter,  half-plaintive  mockery  to  lavish  upon  her  picture,  her  glove, 
her  airy  image.  But  with  an  unmistakable  movement  of  repugnance,  Neria  re- 
pulsed him,  and  extricating  herself  from  his  embrace,  hurried  to  the  door  of  the 
staircase  leading  to  her  own  apartments. 


CIPHER.  103 

Vaughn  followed,  and,  seizing  her  by  the  hand,  demanded  passionately, 
"  Why  do  you  leave  me  thus  ?     Why  do  you  refuse  my  caresses  ?     Do  you, 
then,  absolutely  loathe  me  ?  " 

"  No  ;  O,  no  !  "  said  Neria,  faintly.  "  But  do  not  touch  me,  do  not  kiss  m« 
again  !  O  let  me  go,  I  am  faint." 

She  snatched  away  her  hand,  and  groped  for  the  handle  of  the  door,  swayed 
heavily  forward,  and  fell  swooning  upon  the  stairs. 

With  a  sharp  revulsion  of  feeling,  Vaughn  raised  her  again  in  his  arms,  bore 
her  reverently  up  the  stairs,  and  laid  her  upon  a  couch  near  the  open  window. 

A_/ftzf<?«  of  cologne-water  stood  upon  the  dressing-table.  He  applied  it  to 
her  temples  and  poured  some  drops  into  her  mouth.  In  a  few  moments  she 
revived,  opened  her  eyes,  turned  them  upon  Vaughn,  shrank  away  and  closed 
them  again.  He  took  her  hand.  It  was  withdrawn. 

"  I  have  broken  our  pact,"  said  he,  with  stern  sadness  ;  "  but  it  was  because 
I  deceived  myself.  I  fancied  for  a  moment  that  you  returned  my  love,  might  re- 
turn my  caresses.  Even  now  I  will  have  no  doubt  remaining  between  us. 
Speak  plainly  and  as  frankly  as  you  would  pray  to  God.  Do  you  love  me  ;  do 
you  think  you  will  ever  love  me  other  than  as  a  child  loves  its  father,  a  sister 
her  brother?  Will  my  caresses  ever  be  other  than  repugnant  to  your  feel- 
ings ?  " 

Neria  sat  upright,  her  white  face,  gleaming  eyes,  and  cloudy  hair,  giving  her 
the  look  of  the  angel  of  tears  and  sorrow.  She  raised  her  hands  in  unconscious 
deprecation  of  her  own  words  as  she  said, 

"  O,  Sieur,  how  can  I  bear  to  tell  it  you,  but  I  fear  I  never  can  ;  I  fear  that 
if  we  are  to  be  happy  at  all,  if  even  I  am  to  live  at  all,  you  must  never  again 
forget  what  you  have  promised.  Sieur,  I  pray  God  that  I  may  die  soon,  and 
leave  you  free  to  love  and  marry  soon  one  who  will  love  you  as  I  cannot.  O,  I 
pray  that  I  may  die  and  leave  you  free." 

The  plaintive  tone  in  her  voice  deepened  to  a  heart-break,  and  as  she  finished 
speaking,  she  fell  into  a  passion  of  tears  and  sobs,  shaking  her  slender  form  to 
its  centre.  It  was  the  first  time  in  all  her  life  that  Vaughn  had  seen  her  weep, 
and  he  was  more  terrified  than  he  had  been  when  she  swooned. 

"  May  God  be  merciful  to  us  both  !  "  cried  he,  bowing  his  face  upon  his 
hands,  while  through  his  heart  thrilled  the  fierce  pang  of  which  a  man's  tears 
are  born. 

Presently  he  took  Neria's  hand.     It  lay  cold  and  lifeless  in  his  own. 

"  My  wife,"  said  he,  solemnly,  "  for  you  are  still  my  wife,  to  cherish  and  to 
guard,  if  not  to  love,  all  this  shall  be  set  right  for  you,  if  not  for  me.  You  will 
forgive  what  I  have  made  you  suffer,  and  not  blame  my  broken  faith  too  harshly  ; 
for,  O,  child,  a  man  is  not  as  a  God,  and  my  strength  was  taxed  heavily,  heavily. 
Forgive  me,  Neria,  and  show  that  you  forgive,  by  never  in  your  inmost  heart 
again  wishing  me  the  terrible  punishment  of  your  death." 

He  waited  for  no  reply,  but  was  gone  ;  and  presently  stepping  from  the  win- 
dow where  Neria  had  entered,  he  sought  the  wood,  and  wandered  there  until  the 
night  was  done,  the  summer  night  of  moon,  and  stars,  and  richest  balm  of 
dewy  flowers,  and  dreamy  chirrup  of  half-awakened  birds,  and  wooing  whispers 
of  the  warm  west  wind,  and  solemn  diapason  of  the  distant  sea  ;  and  yet,  the 
night  than  which  no  night  was  ever  blacker,  or  fiercer,  or  more  blankly  starless 
in  the  life  of  Frederic  Vaughn. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE     GREAT     BANNER. 

THE  days  had  come  when  the  "blood-red  blossom  of  war"  bloomed  upon 
our  fields,  and  the  tocsin  was  loudly  summoning  her  laborers  to  reap  the 
harvest  which,  sown  by  anarchy  and  oppression,  is  in  the  divine  order  of  events 
to  be  gathered  into  the  garners  of  peace  and  widest  liberty. 

The  stern  echo  of  this  cry  had  jarred  discordantly  upon  Vaughn's  bridal  joy 
and  he  had  answered  it  with  his  wealth,  his  influence,  his  earnest  wishes.  Him- 
self he  had  withheld,  for  he  had  said  he  was  no  more  his  own,  but  Neria's. 
Now,  however,  as  devotees  will  give  to  God  the  heart  that  earth  has  broken, 
Vaughn  was  ready  to  offer  to  his  country  the  life  that  love  had  wrecked. 

The  next  day  after  his  decisive  interview  with  Neria  he  applied  for  a  com- 
mission as  colonel,  volunteering  to  raise  and  equip  the  color  company  of  a  new 
regiment  at  his  own  expense. 

Pending  the  answer  to  this  application,  Vaughn  busied  himself  in  setting  his 
affairs  in  order,  with  the  same  solemn  tenderness  with  which  a  man  who  feels 
his  death  at  hand,  will  care  for  the  welfare  of  those  he  loves  and  must  leave 
behind.  Heedful  even  of  Neria's  fantasy,  as  he  deemed  it,  he  sent  for  Chloe  to 
his  study,  and  closely  questioned  her  touching  her  nocturnal  rambles  ;  without, 
however,  telling  her  how  he  had  heard  of  them. 

The  old  negress  appeared  at  first  utterly  stolid,  but  when  pressed  for  the 
motive  to  her  curious  pantomime  with  the  toad,  she  mumbled  some  broken  sen- 
tences implying  that  she  had  been  working  a  charm  for  the  benefit  of  her  own 
health,  and  that  to  preserve  its  efficacy  this  charm  must  remain  a  secret. 

The  explanation  seemed  to  Vaughn  very  consistent  with  the  superstition 
and  secretiveness  of  the  negro  character,  and  he  contented  himself  with 
warning  Chloe  that  such  exposure  to  night  air  and  damps  was  far  more  likely 
to  injure  than  to  benefit  her  health,  and  desiring  that  she  should  in  future  omit 
them.  He  further  informed  her  that  he  was  about  to  leave  home  for  some  time, 
and  inquired  if  she  would  prefer  remaining  at  Bonniemeer,  subject,  of  course,  to 
Mrs.  Vaughn's  pleasure,  or  be  placed  with  Mrs.  Rhee  at  Carrick.  Whichever 
home  she  selected,  however,  Vaughn  decisively  forbade  any  private  communica- 
tion between  the  two,  and  sternly  desired  the  old  woman  to  understand  that  no 
messages  from  Mrs.  Rhee  to  Miss  Vaughn  were  to  be  delivered,  whatever  might 
be  the  urgency  of  the  housekeeper's  entreaties. 

Chloe  turned  up  her  head,  and  gave  Vaughn  one  of  her  wicked  sidelong  looks. 
So  forcibly  did  the  action  remind  him  of  some  ill-omened  bird,  some  crafty 
raven  who  had  learned  a  secret  of  sin  and  shame,  and  only  waits  the  fitting 
moment  to  prate  it  in  the  ears  that  last  should  hear  it,  that  he  could  not  restrain 
a  smile. 

"  'Pears  nat'ral  'nough,  arter  all,  dat  Miss  'Nita  like  to  hab  missy  Franc 
come  see  her  odd  times,"  began  she  ;  but  Vaughn,  no  longer  smiling,  raised  a 
finger. 


CIPHER.  105 

"Htiih,  woman  !  "  said  he,  sternly.  "  If  you  speak  of  what  is  forbidden,  I 
shall  know  that  you  are  crazy,  and  send  you  to  a  mad-house." 

"  Lors,  mas'r,  it  be  you  dat's  mad,  not  me,"  replied  the  old  woman,  with  such 
simplicity  that  Vaughn  remained  uncertain  whether  she  had  understood  him  or 
not,  and  after  ascertaining  that  she  preferred  remaining  at  Bonniemeer,  con- 
tented himself  with  placing  a  considerable  present  in  her  hand,  and  charging 
her,  in  a  kind  but  authoritative  manner,  to  remember  his  injunctions. 

Chloe  mumbled  thanks  ;  and  with  a  promise  of  compliance,  shuffled  away, 
pausing  with  the  door  in  her  hand  to  once  more  glance  sidelong  at  her  master, 
and  mutter  in  her  own  barbarous  dialect  some  unintelligible  phrase. 

"  I  wish  she  had  chosen  to  go,  but  I  cannot  turn  her  out,  and  I  believe  she 
is  harmless,"  said  Vaughn,  as  the  door  closed;  and  then,  dismissing  theunpleas- 
ing  subject  from  his  mind,  he  turned  to  more  important  matters.  The  manage- 
ment of  his  large  properly  he  continued  in  the  hands  of  Jones,  Brown,  and 
Robinson,  the  hereditary  advisers  of  his  house  ;  but  for  a  personal  and  confiden- 
tial adviser  in  any  difficulty,  Vaughn  recommended  Neria  to  apply  to  Mr.  Mur- 
ray, -whose  talents  as  a  business  man  were  undeniable,  and  whose  interest  in  the 
concerns  of  his  kinsman's  family  was  not  to  be  doubted,  although  occasionally 
shown  in  a  somewhat  unadvised  manner. 

Neria  acquiesced  in  everything,  listened  patiently  to  her  husband's  minute 
directions  and  council,  and  opposed  none  of  his  arrangements,  not  even  the 
primary  one  of  leaving  home.  Indeed,  since  the  hour  when  the  decisive  though 
involuntary  expression  of  her  distaste  for  his  love  had  so  wounded  Vaughn's 
heart,  Neria  had  grown  timid,  silent,  and  pre-occupied  ;  brooding,  not  as  her 
husband  bitterly  told  himself,  over  the  untoward  fate  that  had  bound  her,  past 
release,  to  his  side,  but  perplexing  herself  afresh  over  the  yet  unsolved  mysteries 
of  love,  of  her  own  life,  and  of  man's  nature. 

.  So  the  days  went  on,  all  flowers  and  sunshine  and  song  of  summer  birds 
upon  the  surface,  while  dead  men's  bones,  and  crawling  worms,  and  cold,  and 
dark,  lay  beneath  the  surface.  So  with  the  great  earth  herself,  so  with  many  a 
smaller  sphere  swinging  in  a  smaller  orbit,  and  yet  indissoluble  from  the  finely 
graduated  scheme  of  the  universe.  No  Thalberg,  no  Gottschalk,  no  Listz  can 
so  endlessly  vary  his  theme  as  can  nature,  and  yet  the  foundation  of  each  va- 
riation is  the  theme  itself. 

Vaughn  received  his  commission,  and  was  busied  day  after  day  in  the  city 
with  regimental  affairs. 

At  home,  Neria  and  Francia  wrought  silently  at  the  great  silken  banner  des- 
tined to  be  borne  by  the  men  of  Carrick,  who  had  answered  to  Vaughn's 
spirited  appeal  for  their  support  and  assistance  so  unanimously  that  the  corps 
d'honncnr  which  he  proposed  ,to  raise,  was  almost  entirely  composed  of  men 
who  had  either  grown  up  with  him,  or  who  had  from  boyhood  looked  upon  him 
as  their  natural  leader  and  adviser. 

So  Vaughn  led  forth  the  men  of  Carnck,  and  Vaughn's  wife  and  their  wives 
remained  in  their  lonely  homes. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MRS.   LUTTRELL. 


THE  Luttrells  were  settled  at  Cragness  after  several  delays  on  account  of 
weather  and  the  health  of  the  invalid  ;  and  Neria,  with  Francia,  drove  over  to 
call  upon  them. 


106  CIPHER. 

Shown  into  the  library  by  Nancy  Brume,  they  found  Mrs.  Luttrell  lying  upon 
a  couch  near  the  window,  alone.  She  half  rose  to  meet  them,  but  sank  back 
with  a  murmured  apology  for  her  weakness,  and  looked  indeed  so  fragile  that 
no  apology  was  needed.  While  Francia,  always  fluent  and  at  ease,  made  talk 
upon  the  weather  and  the  debilitating  influence  of  the  first  hot  days,  Neria 
looked  at  the  invalid  with  a  painful  and  perplexed  interest. 

It  had  so  chanced  that  they  had  never  met  in  the  city,  and  Neria  found  it 
impossible  to  account  for  the  impulse  of  tenderness  and  sympathy  now  possess- 
ing her.  She  could  not  even  decide  whether  the  face  of  the  invalid  was  more 
prepossessing  or  painful  in  its  wan  loveliness. 

Tall  and  slender  in  figure  and  handsome  in  feature,  Mrs.  Luttrell  had,  at  the 
time  of  her  marriage,  been  considered  a  beauty ;  but  now,  her  abundant  fair  hair 
seemed  to  have  lost  its  light  and  gloss  ;  her  complexion,  from  delicate,  had  be- 
come transparently  pallid  ;  her  white  teeth  shone  ghastly  between  lips  almost 
as  white,  while  her  large  blue  eyes  had  acquired  a  singular  expression  of 
anxiety  and  terror,  a  dreamy  watchfulness,  a  weary  foreboding,  never  lost,  as  she 
listened  or  as  she  talked.  Her  slender  hands,  too,  Neria  noticed  had  assumed 
an  unnatural  pearly  whiteness  and  a  stiff  and  laborious  motion,  while  beneath 
the  nails  appeared  a  violet  tinge  instead  of  the  rose-red  hue  of  health. 

Her  manner,  too,  was  changed.  Naturally  serene  and  undemonstrative,  it 
now  was  marked  by  uncertain  flutter,  a  rapid  alternation  from  animation  to  ab- 
straction, with-  frequent  lapses  into  reverie.  In  a  pause  of  the  chat,  which  even 
Francia  found  it  hard  to  sustain,  Neria  kindly  inquired  if  Mrs.  Luttrell  found 
benefit  from  the  sea  air. 

"  The  sea  air  ?"  repeated  the  invalid,  vaguely.  "  Oh,  it  makes  no  difference 
about  that."  She  stopped  with  a  frightened  start,  and  presently  continued,  in  a 
tone  of  forced  gayety : 

"  O,  I  am  doing  very  well — quite  as  well  as  I  could  expect.  The  doctor  says 
it  is  only  that  I  am  nervous." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  so  ill  ?"  asked  Francia. 

"  I  don't  know  when  it  began — I  can't  think,"  replied  Mrs.  Luttrell,  in  a  low 
voice  ;  and  from  the  last  word  she  seemed  to  drop  into  an  abyss  of  reverie,  so 
profound  that  neither  of  her  guests  liked  to  interrupt  it. 

Through  the  half-open  door  glided  the  figure  of  Dr.  Luttrell,  and,  although 
noiselessly,  his  wife,  who  had  lain  with  her  back  to  him,  raised  her  head  and 
moved,  so  that  she  could  see  him  ;  nor  from  that  moment  to  the  end  of  the  call 
did  her  eyes  ever  wander  from  his  face  for  more  tnan  a  moment.  This  fixed 
and  anxious  gaze  did  not,  however,  seem  to  embarrass  its  object,  who  never,  by 
any  chance,  returned  it,  although  he  occasionally  addressed  his  wife.  The  la- 
dies of  Bonniemeer  he  professed  himself  delighted  to  welcome,  and  hoped  they 
would  often  take  compassion  upon  Mrs.  Luttrell,  who  was  too  much  of  an  in- 
valid to  move  about  much. 

The  conversation  no  longer  lagged.  Inquiring  if  Neria  had  seen  the«unset 
of  the  preceding  night,  Luttrell  launched  into  some  new  theories  of  atmospheric 
effects,  solar  rays,  and  the  aurora ;  had  some  new  discoveries  in  the  moon  to 
narrate  ;  and,  with  a  turning  toward  Francia,  closed  with  a  droll  story  of  a  far- 
mer who  must  cut  his  salt  hay  in  apogee,  and,  because  his  work  pressed,  sent 
to  Cambridge  to  request  that  apogee  might  be' put  off  a  week  or  two,  offering  to 
pay  "  anything  in  reason  "  for  the  accommodation.  Then  he  spoke  of  Vaughn's 
devotion  to  his  country's  cause,  and,  with  a  half  glance  toward  his  wife,  said 
that  "  had  he  not  a  paramount  duty  at  home,  nothing  should  deter  him  from  fol- 
lowing so  fine  an  example." 


CIPHER.  107 

A  sudden  impulse  drew  Neria's  eyes  to  Mrs.  Luttrell's  face  as  these  words 
were  spoken,  in  time  to  see  the  doubt,  the  terror,  the  torturing  uncertainty, 
deepening  and  deepening  in  the  great  blue  eyes,  while  they  dwelt  as  earnestly 
upon  the  speaker's  face  as  might  those  of  a  child  on  the  page  where  is  written 
a  fascinating  tale  in  an  unknown  tongue. 

Luttrell  felt  the  gaze — felt  its  expression,  too,  as  the  sudden  knitting  of  the 
brows  and  compression  of  the  lips  sufficiently  proved  ;  but  still  he  never  looked 
toward  his  wife,  never  paused  in  his  conversation,  but  presently,  as  if  uncon- 
sciously, took  a  fire-screen  from  the  table,  and,  playing  with  it  while  he  talked, 
held  it  between  his  wife  and  himself. 

The  face  of  the  invalid  grew  clouded.  She  moved  uneasily  upon  her  couch, 
closed  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  lay  quite  still,  as  if  gathering  strength  for  a 
struggle,  and  then  opening  them  wide,  while  all  the  power  of  her  body  seemed 
gathered  in  their  luminous  rays,  she  fixed  upon  Luttrell  a  gaze  which  pierced 
through  every  defence,  every  subterfuge — a  gaze  which,  though  it  might  drain 
the  vital  energy  of  that  delicate  organization,  could  not  fail  of  its  object.  Lut- 
trell paused  suddenly  in  what  he  was  saying,  threw  down  the  fire-screen,  and 
walked  to  the  window.  His  wife  moved  slightly,  that  she  might  still  keep  her 
eyes  upon  him. 

Neria  found  herself  oppressed  and  agitated  with  the  mystery  floating  around 
her,  and  blending  with  the  old  mystery  of  the  place,  which  had  of  late  begun  to 
haunt  her  with  a  sense  of  duty  unfulfilled.  She  glanced  at  Francia  and  rose  to 
go.  Mrs.  Luttrell  half  rose,  made  an  adieu  as  brief  as  courtesy  would  admit, 
and  sank  back.  Her  husband,  visibly  anxious  to  escape  the  room,  seized  his 
hat  and  escorted  the  ladies  to  their  carriage.  As  they  drove  down  the  hill  they 
sa^  him  turn  toward  the  beach  and  stroll  away  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has 
several  hours  to  dispose  of,  and  is  in  no  hurry. 

"  He  won't  go  home  very  soon,  by  his  looks,"  said  Francia,  laughing,  as  she 
touched  her  ponies  with  the  whip. 

"No." 

"  How  do  you  like  Mrs.  Luttrell  ? " 

"  She  is  very  interesting — I  pity  her. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  She  didn't  seem  interesting  to  me ;  I  thought  her 
too  much  taken  up  with  herself,  and  dull,  like  all  sick  people.  I  like  Doctor 
Luttrell  ever  so  much,"  returned  Francia,  positively  ;  and  Neria  said,  pointing 
to  the  headland  before  them, 

"  See  the  Lion's  Head  against  the  evening  sky.     Isn't  it  grand  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  weather  became  oppressively  hot,  and  Mr.  Chilton,  forsaking  his  usual 
summer  orbit,  came  quietly  down  to  Carrick  and  took  lodgings  at  tne  Mermaid's 
Cave,  Colonel  Vaughn's  absence  preventing  his  receiving  an  invitation  to  stay 
at  Bonniemeer. 

Neria  watched  the  effect  of  this  movement  upon  Francia  with  much  interest, 
for  it  had  been  too  obvious  during  the  last  few  weeks  that  some  great  anxiety 
or  doubt  had  taken  possession  of  the  child's  mind,  and  was  exerting  a  morbid 
influence  on  her  character.  Neria,  fastidiously  delicate  in  her  fear  of  intrusion 
upon  the  personality  of  others,  asked  no  questions — refrained,  even,  from  that 
n.ute  sympathy  which  sometimes  is  more  intrusive  than  a  direct  appeal ;  and 


Io8  CIPHER. 

Francia,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  seemed  inclined  for  meditation  rather  than 
speech,  so  that,  whatever  lay  beneath  the  surface,  life  at  Bonniemeer  w^nt  on  as 
usual.  Mr.  Chilton  was  there  much  of  his  time,  of  course,  and  seemed  quite 
sufficiently  devoted  to  his  beautiful  fiancee — all  the  more  so,  perhaps,  that  she 
no  longer  beamed  full  moon  upon  him,  but  had  her  hours  of  depression,  abstrac- 
tion, even  of  pettishness.  Also,  she  occasionally  appeared  with  red  eyes  and 
feverish  lips — new  symptoms  in  her  sunny  life.  The  lover  was  not  slow  to  per- 
ceive these  changes,  but,  question  he  never  so  tenderly,  could  get  no  satisfac- 
tory explanation  of  them,  and  occasionally  departed  for  Carrick  in  an  undignified 
state  of  mind,  characterized  among  children  as  "  the  sulks." 

Two  or  three  weeks  had  passed  after  this  fashion,  when,  one  morning,  as 
Neria  was  about  sending  to  Cragness  to  inquire  for  Mrs.  Luttrell,  Francia  of- 
fered to  ride  over  herself. 

"  Mr.  Chilton  will  be  here  soon,  I  suppose,"  suggested  Neria,  glancing  at 
her  watch.  "  You  might  wait  and  have  his  escort." 

"It's  not  worth  while  to  delay,"  returned  Francia,  hastily.  "He  may  not 
come  before  dinner,  and  it  will  soon  be  too  hot  to  ride.  I  will  just  go  over 
alone." 

"Very  well,  dear,"  said  Neria,  a  little  puzzled,  for  she  knew  that  Francia 
had  once  minded  neither  heat  nor  cold,  and  would  have  thought  it  little  to  wait 
hours  for  her  lover's  company. 

The  black  pcny  was  brought  round,  and  as  Francia,  settling  herself  in  the 
saddle,  glanced  toward  the  window  with  a  nod  and  smile,  Neria  was  struck  with 
the  change  a  few  weeks  had  wrought  in  her  face.  From  very  pretty  she  had 
become  lovely.  The  eyes  that  had  been  but  roadside  violets,  smiling  frankly  up 
at  every  passer,  were  of  a  sudden  violets  shyly  blooming  in  the  deep  recesses 
of  a  forest,  where  never  penetrates  the  sun  to  drink  the  dew  that  trembles  on 
their  lips — never  comes  ruder  step  or  harsher  voice  than  the  fawn's  and  the 
nightingale's. 

The  night  of  a  year  ago,  when — she  crowning  him  with  water-lilies — Fergus 
had  called  Francia  Undine,  floated  into  Neria's  memory,  and  while  she  thought, 
"  It  is  the  soul  slowly  crystallizing  in  the  midst  of  her  life  that  I  see  in  her  eyes 
to-day,"  she  sighed. 

"  Sighed  for  the  grief  and  the  pain 
For  the  reed  that  grows  nevermore  again 
As  a  reed  with  the  reeds  in  the  river.  " 

Francia  did  her  errand,  and  heard  from  Mrs.  Brume  that  the  invalid  was  no 
better — in  fact,  grew  daily  worse ;  and,  to  the  inquiry  if  Mrs.  Vaughn  could 
send  her  anything,  or  offer  any  service,  Nancy  replied,  with  some  hesitation, 

"  Well,  if  you  or  Miss  Vaughn  could  come  and  set  up  a  night  with  her,  I 
should  be  dreadful  glad,  for  there's  no  one  but  the  doctor  and  me,  and  we're 
pretty  near  tuckered  out.  She's  so  notional  she  won't  have  a  nuss,  though  I've 
heerd  him  offer  to  send  to  the  city  for  the  best  that's  to  be  got." 

"  Certainly  we  will  come,"  replied  Francia,  readily.  "  That  is,  I  will ;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  Mrs.  Vaughn  will,  although  she  is  not  so  strong  as  I.  One  of 
us  will  come  to-night." 

"  That's  real  clever  of  you,  now,  I  do  say.  I  didn't  expect  both  on  you, 
though  the  more  the  merrier ;  and  you've  got  sickness  to  home,  too." 

"  Yes,  poor  Chloe  does  not  grow  any  better  ;  but  Aunt  Sally  takes  good  care 
of  her,  and  Mrs.  Vaughn  sees  about  it.  Good  morning." 

"  Good  day,  Miss  Franc,"  said  the  housekeeper,  and  stood  in  the  door,  one 


CIPHER.  109 

skinny  hand  shading  her  eyes,  while  the  other  gathered  together  an  apron  net 
absolutely  clean,  watching  the  graceful  figure  of  the  young  girl  as  she  rode 
slowly  down  the  beach. 

"Tears  like  there's  something  on  her  mind,"  soliloquized  she,  at  length. 
"  Wonder  if  she's  heerd— " 

Nancy  went  back  to  her  work,  and  Francia  rode  pensively  along  the  sands, 
where  now  the  noonday  heat  began  to  quiver  in  a  shimmering  cloud,  while  the 
dunes  heading  the  beach  seemed  parching  and  bleaching  to  a  ghastlier  white, 
and  the  scattered  tufts  of  beach-grass  lay  prostrate  and  wilting.  The  round 
spot  of  shade  at  the  foot  of  each  ragged  mound  crawled  slowly  nearer  to  its 
base,  and  following,  inch  by  inch,  the  fierce  sunlight  drank  up  the  dew  that  the 
night  had  pityingly  let  fall  upon  the  scorching  traces  of  yesterday's  heat. 

A  mile  from  Cragness  the  road  to  Bonniemeer  wound  in  between  two  of 
these  dunes,  and  Francia  had  already  drawn  her  pony's  rein  toward  it,  when  eye 
and  hand  were  arrested  by  the  sight  of  two  figures,  at  some  distance  up  the 
beach,  seated  under  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock,  against  which  the  female  figure 
leaned,  while  her  companion,  stretched  upon  the  sand,  rested  upon  an  elbow, 
with  his  head  so  near  her  shoulder  that,  in  that  drowsy  atmosphere,  a  speedy 
contact  seemed  inevitable. 

Francia's  eyes  were  good,  and  her  perceptions  keen.  Also  she  was  Colonel 
Vaughn's  daughter,  and  with  a  sharp  turn  of  the  bit  she  guided  her  pony  back 
to  the  sands,  put  him  to  a  canter,  reduced,  as  she  approached  the  rock,  to  a 
walk,  at  which  pace  she  passed,  glancing  across  the  two  figures  as  she  glanced 
across  the  sands,  across  the  gulls,  as  Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere  glances  across 
the  face  of  young  Lawrence,  when  she  no  longer  cares  to  remember  him. 

As  she  approached,  Chilton  sprang  to  his  feet  and  advanced  a  step  toward 
her;  then,  catching  the  expression  of  her  face,  paused,  and  stood  in  all  the  awk- 
ward embarrassment  inevitable  to  the  most  polished  dissembler  at  some  points 
of  his  career.  His  companion  turned  her  face  seaward  and  giggled  nervously. 
Leaving  them  thus,  Francia  paced  slowly  on,  sitting  her  horse  with  the  noncha- 
lant grace  of  an  accomplished  horsewoman,  who  feels  herself  free  from  the 
restraint  of  spectators. 

Surely,  a  throne  is  not  such  vantage  ground  as  a  horse's  back.  Mounted, 
the  rider  who  understands  his  horse,  duplicates  all  the  highest  attributes  of 
humanity.  He  is  braver,  he  is  nobler,  he  is  more  decisive,  apter  to  attempt  re- 
dress of  the  wrongs  about  him.  Had  Arthur's  knights  been  foot-soldiers  would 
there  ever  have  been  a  Round  Table  ?  Had  the  horse  refused  co-operation  would 
chivalry  ever  have  glorified  the  earth,  would  the  noble  madness  of  the  Crusades 
have  done  its  mighty  work  upon  the  civilization  of  the  i  iddle  ages  ?  "  When  I 
am  the  king  and  you  are  the  queen  "  we  will  apportion  .o  every  new-born  child 
a  steady  horse,  upon  whose  back  he  shall  be  cradled,  shall  learn  to  sit  upright, 
shall  find  his  home  by  day,  his  rest  by  night. 

That  evening,  when  Mr.  Chilton  appeared  at  Bonniemeer,  very  ill  at  ease,  and 
as  doubtful  of  his  reception  as  he  had  a  right  to  be,  he  found  Fraacia  seated 
with  Neria  in  the  drawing-room. 

She  bade  him  a  courteous  good-evening,  but  made  no  movement  to  meet 
him,  asked  no  questions  as  to  his  occupations  through  the  day,  showed  neither 
displeasure  nor  pique  toward  him,  or  indeed  evinced  any  emotion  whatever  ;  and 
the  slight  shade  of  reserve  pervading  her  demeanor  was  so  delicately  drawn  as 
to  give  no  ground  for  comment,  or  warrant  any  appeal  for  explanation. 

Chi  ton  made  his  adieu  at  an  early  hour,  and  walked  slowly  back  to  Carrick, 


HO  CIPHER. 

wondering  whether  he  was  most  pleased  or  annoyed  at  the  course  \\\sfiancts  had 
chosen.  When  he  was  gone,  Francia  rose,  and,  flitting  restlessly  about  the  room 
for  a  few  moments,  came  and  threw  herself  upon  the  floor  at  Neria's  feet,  laying 
her  head  upon  her  lap.  It  had  been  a  favorite  attitude  of  hers  till  lately,  and 
Neria  fondly  smoothed  the  bright  brown  hair  that  rippled  beneath  her  ringers 
like  the  tiny  waves  of  a  sunlit  sea. 

"  Neria,  darling,  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  whispered  Francia. 

"  Ask  your  own  heart,  dear,  not  me,"  said  Neria,  sadly. 

"  But,  if  my  heart  has  misled  me  once  ?  " 

"  Was  it  your  heart  or  your  fancy,  your  vanity,  that  misled  you,  Franc  ?" 

"  But,  if  I  have  done  something  and  think  I  should  not  have  done  it,  is  it 
worse  to  try  to  undo  it,  or  to  go  on,  hoping  time  will  mend  it?"  asked  the  girl, 
earnestly,  while  she  raised  a  pale  face  to  the  mournful  one  bent  over  her,  and 
Neria  said : 

"  O,  Franc,  how  dare  I  advise  you  ?  I,  who  have  guided  my  own  life  so  ill. 
I  am  afraid,  dear,  I  cannot  help  you,  and  yet  I  will  not  refuse.  Think  of  it  to- 
night, question  your  own  heart,  question  the  Father  who,  sooner  or  later,  heals 
all  wounds,  soothes  all  sorrows.  Take  council  with  the  night,  and  if.  to-mor- 
row, you  still  wish  for  such  help  as  I  can  give,  come  and  you  shall  have  it." 

They  kissed  and  bade  good-night,  each  taking  for  her  companion  through 
the  sleepless  hours,  the  Gordian  knot  which  life  presents  to  every  one  of  us,  and 
which  most  of  us  spend  our  years  in  the  effort  to  unravel,  finally  perhaps  bor- 
rowing of  despair  a  sword  to  sever,  not  the  knot,  but  the  life  entangled  in  it. 

With  the  morning  came  Fergus,  an  unexpected  envoy  from  his  father  to 
Neria.  upon  some  matter  of  business.  The  ladies  were  together  when  he 
arrived,  and  from  Neria  he  turned  to  Francia,  who  found  beneath  the  courteous- 
ness  of  his  greeting,  a  formality  and  constraint  that  she,  sighing,  told  herself 
had  been  unknown  to  the  old  time.  She  sat  while  he  talked  with  Neria,  and 
listened,  not  to  his  words  but  to  his  tones,  firm,  deep,  and  resolute.  She  looked 
through  her  long  lashes  at  his  face  ;  it  was  perhaps  a  little  thinned,  but  full  of 
energy  and  determination. 

"  Very  little  effect  could  such  a  girl  as  I  have  on  a  nature  like  that,"  thought 
Francia  sadly,  and  sighed. 

At  sound  of  the  sigh  Fergus  glanced  toward  her,  but  directly  averted  his 
eyes,  and  continued  his  conversation  with  Neria.  So  Francia  took  her  sick 
heart  to  the  solitude  of  her  chamber,  and  there  listening  to  its  moanings.  deter- 
mined upon  an  experiment  for  its  relief,  in  the  heroic  style  of  treatment. 

Wrhen  Mr.  Chilton  called,  he  was  told  that  Miss  Vaughn  was  not  well  and 
could  not  see  him.  He  came  in,  and  encountered  Fergus,  and  although  Neria 
exerted  herself  to  fulfil  every  hospitable  obligation  to  even  an  unwelcome  guest, 
Mr.  Chilton  found  the  atmosphere  of  Bonniemeer  so  oppressive  that  he  declined 
an  invitation  to  dinner,  and  departed,  to  return  in  the  evening. 

Francia  did  not  show  herself  until  tea-time,  when  she  came  down  stairs,  pale, 
but  with  such  an  expression  on  her  face  that  Neria  looking  at  her,  thought  "she 
has  resolved."  Fergus  glanced  once,  and  then  away.  Perhaps  his  own  eyes 
were  for  the  next  few  moments  more  thoughtful  than  their  wont,  and  certainly 
he  did  not  speak,  but  what  Fergus  thought  on  this,  as  on  many  points,  it  was 
only  Fergus  who  knew. 

Tea  over,  Neria  was  called  from  the  room  a  moment,  and  Francia,  trembling 
very  much  but  still,  with  the  heroic  mood  uppermost,  said,  quietly  : 

"Fergus, 'I  should  like  to  speak  to  you.  Will  you  walk  toward  the  lake 
with  me  ?"  Her  cousin  looked  at  her  with  ill-concealed  suspense,  but  replied: 


CIPHER.  in 

"  Certainly,  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  do  so.     Will  you  go  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  please." 

"  If  Mr.  Chilton  calls,  please  say  I  am  out,"  added  Francia,  to  the  servant, 
as  she  and  her  cousin  passed  through  the  hall. 

Down  the  garden  path,  and  through  the  dim  oak  wood  to  the  pine  grove 
where  the  brown  needles  spread  carpet-like  under  foot,  and  the  heavy  odor  in 
the  air  told  where  the  sun  had  lain  hottest,  and  still  Francia  had  not  spoken, 
save  in  brief  replies  to  the  commonplace  remarks  of  Fergus.  They  reached 
the  mere,  whose  placid  waters  lay  sleeping  in  the  twilight,  with  fairy  palaces  all 
of  gold  and  mother-of-pearl,  showing  fairly  in  their  depths  as  the  evening  sky 
bent  down  to  kiss  them.  The  boat  lay  there,  the  very  boat  where,  twelve  months 
before,  they  all  had  sat — the  memory  brougnt  so  sharp  a  pang  to  the  poor  wounded 
heart  that  from  its  very  suffering  it  gained  courage,  and  Francia  desperately 
began,  "  Fergus,  you  are  my  cousin,  and  I  have  no  brother.  I  need  a  brother's 
help  and  council  to-night — will  you  give  them  to  me  ?  " 

It  was  quite  a  moment  before  the  answer  came,  and  then  it  was, 

"If  you  ask  them  in  a  matter  where  I  may  properly  give  them." 

"  O,  Fergus,  do  not  be  cold,  do  not  be  cautious  ;  what  concerns  me,  concerns 
you  ;  what  I  may  properly  confide  to  you,  you  may  as  properly  discuss." 

"  Go  on,  if  you  please,  Francia." 

"  You  don't  call  me  Franc  now." 

Fergus  glanced  at  her  in  surprise.  The  inconsequence  of  the  reproach  in 
the  midst  of  so  much  earnest  feeling  was  so  purely  feminine  a  trait  that  his 
virile  nature  failed  to  comprehend  its  consistency. 

Francia  as  little  comprehended  his  glance  of  surprise. 

"  Did  you  not  mean  to  change  ?"  asked  she  ;  "  I  am  glad  of  that,  but  indeed 
everything  seems  changed  about  us  both.  Last  year,  Fergus — do  you  remem- 
ber?" 

"  What  was  it  you  wished  to  consult  me  upon,  Francia  ? "  asked  Fergus, 
gravely.  Francia  paused,  collected  herself,  and  said  at  last, 

"It  is  this.  If  you  have  done  a  thing — made  a  promise,  perhaps,  and  find 
you  wero  wrong — feel  sure  indeed  that  you  should  never  have  done  it — what 
then  ?  Is  it  worse  to  break  your  promise,  or  to  keep  it,  knowing  it  to  be  a  bad 
one  ? " 

"  You  are  too  indefinite.  I  cannot  answer  so  general  a  question,"  said  Fer- 
gus, turning  a  little  away  from  her,  and  looking  far  across  the  shining  water  to 
where,  over  the  eastern  hill,  hung  a  crescent  moon  with  a  great  white  star  be- 
neath. 

Francia  tried  to  speak,  but  the  throbbing  of  her  heart  choked  her  voice. 
She  glanced  at  her  cousin.  Pale  and  stern,  his  eyes  still  bent  upon  the  wan 
moon,  he  gave  no  answer  to  the  look.  She  tried  again. 

"  It  is  about  myself  and  Mr.  Chilfon,"  said  she,  desperately.  "  I  am  afiaid 
I  never  ought  to  have  been  engaged  to  him.  I  am  afraid  I  nevei  really  cared 
for  him.  I  think  it  was  only  my  fancy,  my  vanity,  thai  he  appealed  to.  1 
never  have  been  quite  happy,  and  lately,  since  I  know  what  sort  of  a  man  he 
is — "  She  waited,  but  Fergus  remained  silent  and  immovable. 

"  Ought  I  to  break  the  engagement,  Fergus,  or  to  keep  it  ?  Which  is  more 
dishonorable  ?  " 

At  last  he  turned  toward  her,  and  in  his  brooding  eyes  she  read  the  answei 
before  he  slowly  spoke  it. 

"  Four  months  ago,  Francia,  when  I,  with  every  reason  to  suppose  my  love 


H2  CIPHER. 

returned,  asked  you  to  be  my  wife,  you  told  me  of  this  engagement.  I  gave 
you  then  my  opinion  of  it ;  I  mentally  foresaw  that  this  very  moment  must  ar- 
rive ;  this,  the  beginning  of  a  train  of  disgust,  mortification,  disgrace,  should 
you  become  Rafe  Chilton's  wife  ;  of  unceasing  regret  for  a  solemn  promise 
broken,  a  degrading  experience  undergone,  if  you  do  not.  Choose  between  these 
alternatives  for  yourself  ;  I  am  the  last  adviser  you  should  have  sought.  It  is 
a  cardinal  principle  of  my  life  to  interfere  in  no  affairs  not  connected  with  my 
own.  This  certainly  is  not,  and  I  must  decline  to  express  any  opinion  upon  it.' 

All  the  spirit  of  the  Vaughns  flashed  in  Francia's  eyes,  mantled  in  her 
cheeks,  and  curved  her  lips. 

"You  will  excuse  me,"  said  she,  coldly,  "for  intruding  upon  you  affairs, 
which,  as  you  say,  are  certainly  none  of  yours.  I  had  been  so  foolish  as  to 
imagine  that  being  mine  they  might  have  an  interest  for  you.  The  mistake  will 
never  be  repeated,  and  I  hope,  in  the  improbable  event  of  your  requiring  sym- 
pathy in  some  trouble  of  your  own,  you  may  meet  a  friend  as  nearly  like  your- 
self as  possible." 

She  walked  quickly  up  the  path  with  feet  that  scarcely  seemed  to  touch  the 
earth,  and  head  haughtily  uplifted  to  the  evening  sky.  Fergus  followed,  saying 
quietly, 

"  You  are  angry,  and  unjust,  as  angry  people  always  are.  When  you  think 
calmly  of  what  I  have  said,  you  will  see  that  I  am  right." 

Francia  did  not  reply,  but  hastened  on  toward  the  house,  nor  did  her  cousin 
-nake  any  further  attempt  to  conciliate  her.  In  the  hall  they  parted  coldly,  and 
the  next  morning  Fergus  returned  to  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE     VENETIAN      GLASS. 

NOTHING  is  so  selfish  as  love-sorrow.  Not  the  maelstrom  itself  is  so  ab- 
sorbent, and,  from  Huldy  Ann,  whose  mother  complains  that  she  is  no  longer 
"  wuth  her  salt,"  to  Rosa  Matilda,  whose  canary  bird  would  starve  but  for  the 
parlor-maid's  attentions,  you  shall  find  its  victims  self-absorbed,  dreamy,  and 
forgetful  of  the  life  about  them.  So  Francia  never  thought  again  of  her  prom- 
ise to  Nancy  Brume,  until  that  worthy  woman  sent  to  Bonniemeer  an  explicit 
inquiry,  whether  she  was  to  count  upon  either  of  the  ladies  there  as  "a  watch- 
er "  for  Mrs.  Luttrell. 

Francia,  vehemently  remorseful  for  her  negligence,  insisted  upon  going  the 
first  night,  and  returned  in  the  morning  with  a  melancholy  account  of  the  con- 
dition of  the  invalid,  whose  prostration  of  body  had  become  excessive,  while  her 
mind  alternated  constantly  from  gloomy  depression  to  excited  fancies  and  hallu- 
cinations, hysterical  emotion  and  frightful  mirth. 

"You  told  them  I  would  come  to-night,  didn't  you,  clear?"  asked  Neria, 
when  Francia  had  given  the  experiences  of  her  arduous  watch. 

"Yes,  but  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  stay  alone  with  her.  She  seemed  out 
of  he*  head  part  of  the  time,  and  was  so  excited  she  quite  frightened  me. 
Then  she  is  so  weak  that  she  cannot  stir  without  help.  It  will  be  too  much  for 
you,  Neria." 

"  O  no,  dear.  I  will  ask  Mrs.  Brume  to  sleep  within  call  in  case  any  help  is 
needed,  and  I  am  not  at  all  timid." 

"You  are  nothing  that  would  prevent  your  doing  good  to  other  people,"  said 


CIPHER.  113 

Francia,  fondly,  and  sighed  at  her  own  deficiencies,  while  Neria's  heart  con- 
tracted with  a  sharp  pain  as  she  thought  of  Vaughn  and  the  good  she  had 
wrought  in  his  life. 

When  Neria  arrived  at  Cragness  she  was  received  by  Dr.  Luttrell,  who  an- 
nounced that  he  should  share  her  watch,  as  the  condition  of  the  patient  was  so 
critical  that  the  end  might  be  expected  at  almost  any  moment. 

They  stood  together  in  the  library  while  he  said  this,  and  Neria  raised  her 
eyes  to  his  face  with  some  expression  of  sympathy  and  concern  upon  her  lips, 
but  the  words  died  in  an  incoherent  murmur  as  she  looked.  Always  pale,  Dr. 
LuttrelPs  face  was  to-night  of  a  ghastly  yellowish  tinge,  scarcely  changed  even 
in  the  dry  lips  at  which  he  gnawed  incessantly.  His  eyelids  drooped  as  if  to 
conceal  the  tawny  eyes,  alive  with  electricity,  gleaming  and  sparkling  in  their 
lurid  depths  as  they  wandered  impatiently  hither  and  thither,  with  a  watchful, 
expectant  look — a  look  of  desperation  and  yet  of  terror — a  look  like  that  of  the 
baited  tiger,  who  knows  the  jungle  closely  environed  by  the  hunters,  and  with 
his  haunches  gathered  for  the  spring,  watches  every  point  at  once  for  the  first 
assailant. 

The  vigilant  eyes  did  not  fail  to  perceive  and  interpret  Neria's  gaze.  They 
flashed  upon  her  and  away,  then  back,  with  a  steady  daring,  and  held  hers,  while 
the  dry  lips  said  : 

"  You  find  me  changed,  Mrs.  Vaughn.  It  is  now  two  weeks  that  I  have 
spent  every  day  and  nearly  every  night  at  my  wife's  bedside.  Remember,  I  am 
her  physician  as  well  as  husband  and  nurse." 

"  You  must  be  very  much  fatigued,"  said  Neria,  slowly,  as  she  tried  to  ana- 
lyze the  ominous  echo  of  these  words  in  her  mind.  "  I  beg,"  continued  she, 
earnestly,*"  that  you  will  trust  me  with  the  sole  charge  to-night,  and  try  to  rest 
yourself  thoroughly  for  to-morrow." 

"  No  ;  O,  no  !  "  returned  the  doctor,  hurriedly.  "  That  is  impossible.  To- 
night is,  I  believe,  a  crisis  in  the  disorder,  and  I  must  be  present.  It  is  my 
duty,  and,  at  any  rate,  I  could  not  rest."  Nancy  Brume  opened  the  door. 

"If  you're  ready  to  go  up  stairs,  Miss  Vaughn,  I  guess  I'll  be  off  to  bed. 
Like  enough  I  shan't  more'n  get  my  forty  winks  'fore  I'm  called  up,"  said  she  ; 
and  Neria  followed,  without  reply,  to  a  large  and  gloomy  chamber  upon  the  sec- 
ond floor,  where  lay  the  sick  woman,  a  pale  spectre,  shadowed  and  surrounded 
by  dark  bed-hangings  and  furniture,  that  seemed  to  oppress  the  air  of  the  room 
with  their  funereal  atmosphere.  The  two  windows  looked  upon  the  sea,  which 
now  came  booming  up  beneath  them,  each  wave  smiting  the  foundations  of  the 
old  house  with  the  sullen  roar  of  a  cannonade.  A  half-open  door  showed  a 
dressing-room,  with  a  handsome  toilet-table  and  apparatus,  among  which  stood 
a  shaded  lamp,  and  an  arm-chair  beside  it.  Nancy  pointed  toward  the  door. 

"  The  doctor  '11  set  in  there  and  read,  so's  he'll  be  handy  in  case  anything 
goes  wrong.  He'll  give  her  the  medicine  when  the  time  comes." 

With  these  words  she  departed,  and  Neria,  approaching  the  bed,  looked 
compassionately  down  at  the  patient,  who  had  altered  sensibly  for  the  worse 
since  she  had  last  seen  her.  Her  eyes,  showing  supernaturally  large  in  her 
ghastly  and  emaciated  face,  were  wide  open  and  glazed.  Beneath  them  a  circle 
of  violet  stained  the  otherwise  colorless  skin,  and  the  same  tinge  had  deepened 
under  the  transparent  nails  of  the  hands  folded  languidly  upon  the  counterpane. 
The  parted  lips  were  parched  and  blackened,  and  Neria  tenderly  moistened 
them  with  some  water  in  a  goblet  upon  the  little  stand  beside  the  bed.  The 
patient  looked  up  and  smiled. 


114  CIPHER. 

"  You  are  Michael,  the  angel  who  fights  with  the  devil,"  said  she,  quietly. 
"  He  was  here  a  moment  ago,  and  I  suppose  is  hiding  from  you.  He  poured 
some  fire  down  my  throat  while  I  was  asleep  one  night,  and  it  burns — O,  how 
it  burns  ! " 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  her  chest,  and  looked  piteously  into  Neria's  face, 
bending  above  her  with  a  divine  compassion  in  its  every  line. 

"  He  keeps  his  imps  in  the  next  room,  all  in  bottles,"  pursued  the  sufferer, 
in  a  mysterious  whisper ;  "and  sometimes  Tie  brings  them  out  and  shakes  them 
up  before  my  eyes.  Then  they  dance — the  imps  do — dance  just  like  the  fire 
down  in  that  old  library — did  you  ever  see  how  that  dances  in  the  twilight? — 
and  when  it  flashes  into  the  dark  corners  you  can  see — ugh,  I've  seen  them  time 
and  again  !  That  was  before  he  caught  them  and  put  them  in  bottles,  I  sup- 
pose. And  then  that  old  man  who  sits  and  plays  on  the  organ  in  the  dark — did 
you  ever  see  him  ?  He  never  makes  any  sound,  but  he  plays  and  plays  till  the 
ghost  of  the  music  fills  the  whole  room — only  the  ghost,  you  know  ;  you  can't 
hear  it,  but  you  feel  it.  It  comes  creeping,  creeping  through  your  blood,  till  it 
chills  it  to  ice.  I  believe  that's  the  way  I  first  came  to  be  so  cold  ;  and  now  I 
never  am  warm.  Good  Michael,  can't  you  take  the  ghost  out  of  my  blood  ?  It 
freezes  me  even  while  the  devil's  fire  scorches." 

Neria  took  the  thin,  white  hands  in  hers.  They  were  indeed  ice  cold,  and 
had  the  stiff,  hard  feel  of  flesh  no  longer  instinct  with  vitality.  She  pressed  and 
chafed  them  in  her  own.  The  patient  smiled  gratefully. 

"Ah,  that  is  comfortable,"  said  she.  "I  feel  the  little  spears  of  life  going 
out  of  your  hands  into  mine.  If  you  had  come  sooner  you  might  have  saved 
me  ;  but  now  I  have  drank  too  much  of  that  fire.  Wait — I  want  you  to  do 
something  for  me — will  you  ?  "  » 

"What  is  it?" 

"  You  see  that  wardrobe  over  there  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  open  it  and  I  will  tell  you. — Ah,  there  he  comes!  Now,  where's 
your  sword  !  Now  you  will  fight  him  !  Now  you  can  make  him  take  away  the 
fire  out  of  me  !  " 

She  rose  in  her  bed,  and,  with  a  long,  white  finger,  pointed  past  Neria,  while 
in  her  eyes  the  look  of  terror  and  foreboding  dawning  there  when  she  first  came 
to  Cragness  shone  full-moon.  Neria  glanced  quickly  over  her  shoulder.  In 
the  door  of  the  dressing-room,  holding  by  the  lintel,  stood  Doctor  Luttrell,  his 
ghastly  face  and  brilliant  eyes  thrown  out  from  the  dark  space  behind  him,  into 
which  his  figure  seemed  to  melt. 

"  He's  got  a  head,  you  see,  but  no  body — that  is  bad,"  said  the  sick  woman, 
anxiously.  "  But  you  might  crush  his  head.  Don't  the  Bible  tell  about  putting 
your  heel  on  his  head  ?  " 

"  Neria  did  not  answer.  She  was  held  by  the  glittering  eyes  that  seemed  im- 
periously to  demand  of  her  her  inmost  thought.  For  a  moment  she  quailed  and 
grew  confused,  but  then  a  great  wave  of  divine  strength  and  power  seemed 
to  swell  through  her  soul,  filling  it  with  a  serene  assurance.  The  wild  words 
of  the  dying  woman  bore  of  a  sudden  a  strange  significance.  She  had  called 
her  by  the  name  of  the  Warrior  Angel,  and  something  of  his  sublime  courage 
and  ardor  raised  her  to  a  level  above  that  of  ordinary  moods.  She  lifted  her 
head,  and  looked  back  the  look  of  these  opalescent  eyes,  while  Vier  own  quick- 
ened with  lambent  fire,  and  deepened  to  their  darkest  hue.  The  color  rose 
lightly  to  her  cheeks,  her  lips  parted,  and  her  golden  hair  seemed  touched  with 
a  glory  like  that  of  sudden  sunshine,  or  the  aureola  of  a  saint 


CIPHER.  ns 

The  white  face  in  the  doorway  writhed  with  a  bitter  sneer,  but  retreated  into 
the  darkness. 

"  There,  he's  gone  !  But  he'll  be  back  in  a  moment,"  gasped  the  sick  woman, 
who  still  sat  upright,  clinging  to  Neria,  while  her  staring  eyes  and  pointing 
finger  seemed  plunging  into  the  darkness  in  pursuit  of  the  object  of  her  terror. 
As  Neria  turned  to  answer  and  soothe  her,  a  stealthy  foot  crept  over  the 
carpet,  and  before  she  knew  that  he  was  near,  Dr.  Luttrell's  voice  said,  signifi- 
cantly, "  You  see  that  my  wife  is  very  ill,  quite  out  of  her  senses,  in  fact,  and  as 
frequently  is  the  case  in  mania,  her  fancies  are  the  direct  opposite  of  her  impres- 
sions when  sane.  For  instance,  she  was  but  now,  I  believe,  describing  me  as  a 
fiend,  and  you,  the  most  feminine  of  women,  if  I  may  say  it,  as  a  warrior.  My 
poor  Beatrice  ! " 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  his  wife's  brow  and  smiled  pityingly  down  upon  her. 
Neria  made  no  answer  but  watched  him  attentively.  So  did  his  wife,  who  lay 
now  perfectly  quiet,  her  whole  consciousness  apparently  absorbed  in  the  wary 
questioning  look  she  fixed  upon  him.  Luttrell  drew  a  little  nearer  to  her,  and, 
still  pressing  his  hand  upon  her  brow,  seem  to  plunge  the  concentrated  rays  of 
his  burning  eyes  into  hers,  which  soon  began  to  waver,  to  droop,  and  finally 
closed  altogether,  while  from  beneath  the  long  fair  lashes,  great  tears  stole  out, 
and  ran  down  the  pallid  cheeks. 

"  She  is  asleep,"  said  Dr.  Luttrell,  turning  toward  Neria,  but  not  meeting 
her  eyes.  "It  will  do  her  good  if  anything  now  can.  You  had  best  go  into 
the  dressing-room  and  read,  or  rest  on  the  arm-chair  you  will  find  there.  You 
need  not  try  to  keep  awake.  I  will  call  you  if  anything  is  needed." 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  Neria,  quickly.  "It  is  I  who  will  stay  here,  and 
you  who  had  better  go  and  rest.  I  am  in  no  need  of  sleep  myself,  and  should 
prefer  to  stay  with  Mrs.  Luttrell." 

He  glanced  swiftly  at  her,  and  said,  carelessly, 

"  As  you  please,  of  course.  I  think  she  will  sleep  until  midnight,  when  I 
will  give  her  a  draught." 

He  glided  away  as  he  spoke,  and  presently  Neria  saw  him  light  the  shaded 
lamp  and  seat  himself  to  read,  in  such  a  position  that  his  eyes  commanded  both 
the  bed  and  the  chair  in  which  she  sat  beside  it. 

The  night  wore  on,  as  slowly  as  it  always  wears  for  those  who  wake  while 
others  sleep  ;  and  Neria,  who  had  laid  her  watch  upon  the  little  table  at  her 
side,  could  hardly  believe  that  its  slender  hands  moved  at  all,  so  reluctantly  did 
they  creep  over  the  dial. 

For  the  first  two  hours  she  was  painfully  conscious  that  the  eyes  of  the  mo- 
tionless figure  in  the  other  room  were  fixed  upon  herself,  and  her  own  gaze 
wandered  perpetually  from  the  pallid  sleeper  at  her  side,  to  the  circle  of  light 
beneath  the  reading  lamp,  showing  a  book,  two  white  hands,  a  dark-clad  figure 
as  high  as  the  breast,  and  nothing  more,  except  the  occasional  gleam  of  two 
bright  points  a  little  higher,  flashing  out  of  the  darkness  toward  her. 

But  no  mind,  however  active,  however  subtile,  can  absolutely  control  the 
body,  and  as  midnight  approached,  Doctor  Luttrell  slept,  at  first  lightly,  but 
finally  with  the  heavy  exhaustion  of  overtaxed  nature. 

As  he  dropped  to  sleep,  the  corpse-like  figure  in  the  bed  stirred  slightly,  and 
Neria  turning,  found  the  eyes  of  her  charge  fixed  upon  her  face  in  a  dumb  ap- 
peal for  help,  not  to  be  misunderstood  or  denied. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  asked  she,  softly. 

'r  I  don't  know.     I  think  nobody  can  do  anythipg  now,"  said  the  sufferer, 


ii6  CIPHER. 

sadly,  and  with  no  appearance  of  excitement  or  hallucination.     She  paused,  still 
looking  with  anxious  entreaty  into  the  heavenly  face  above  her. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  she,  slowly.  "But  I  think  there  is  something  wrong 
about  this  illness.  I  was  always  well  until  a  few  months  since,  and  my  symp- 
toms are  so  strange.  My  husband  calls  this  a  decline,  but — well,  it  would  do  no 
good  to  know.  A  few  more  hours  will  end  all ;  and  I  love  him,  yes,  I  do  love  him 
dearly,  and  shall  die  loving  him.  If  he  had  asked  me  for  my  life,  I  would  have 
given  it  freely — he  need  not  have  taken  such  pains  to  steal  it.  It  was  long  ago. 

0  so  long,  that  this  dreadful  suspicion,  this  great  shapeless  doubt  came  into  my 
mind,  and  then  I  began  to  watch  him,  to  see  if  I  could  find  out  from  his  eyes— 
they  are  such  strange  eyes — did  you  ever  notice  them  ?     But  I  never  could,  and 

1  don't  know  now.     There  is  one  thing  you  can  do — not  that  it  means  anything, 
you  know,  but  just  to  amuse  me.     Open  that  wardrobe,  please,  the  door  is  in  the 
middle,  and  on  a  shelf  with  some  trinkets  you  will  see  a  ruby-colored  wine-glass 
in  a  gold  stand.     Will  you  bring  it  to  me  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Neria,  a  little  surprised  at  the  request,  and  taking  the 
night-lamp  from  the  fireplace  she  opened  the  wardrobe,  found  the  glass  without 
difficulty,  and,  as  she  brought  it  toward  the  bed,  curiously  examined  its  singular 
and  admirable  workmanship.  A  golden  serpent  resting  on  his  coil,  reared  aloft 
his  swelling  throat  and  evil  head,  between  whose  wide  distended  jaws  was  fixed 
a  bubble-like  bowl  of  ruby  glass,  capable  of  holding,  perhaps,  a  spoonful  of  some 
priceless  nectar — nectar  such  as  that  with  which  la  Borgia  stilled  the  too  ur- 
gent reproaches  of  her  injured  lovers  ;  and  as  Neria  slightly  turned  it  in  her  hand, 
the  faint  lamplight  striking  through  the  ruby  bowl  flashed  down  upon  the  scaly 
folds  of  the  serpent,  and  glanced  off  with  a  gleam  like  trickling  blood.  She  held 
it  before  the  weary  eyes,  that  momently  grew  heavier  and  duller. 

"  Yes,  that  is  it !  It  is  a  Venetian  glass — one  of  those  that  they  used  to 
make  in  the  old  time ;  the  art  is  forgotten  now.  My  mother  was  an  Italian  and 
this  was  in  her  family  for  generations.  Will  you  have  it — or,  rather,  wait ;  per- 
haps it  will  not  be  worth  giving.  You  see  that  vial  on  the  table — that  tiny  one. 
Now,  please  pour  some  of  its  contents  into  the  glass." 

Neria  took  the  vial — a  very  small  one,  without  label,  and  about  half  filled 
with  a  colorless,  odorless  liquid — uncorked  it,  and  was  inclining  it  toward  the 
glass,  when  Mrs.  Luttrell  said,  hastily,  "  Put  the  glass  on  the  table  first,  for  fear.' 

Neria,  without  question,  did  as  desired,  and,  setting  the  cup  upon  tlie  table,' 
filled  it  half  full. 

"  That  will  do ;  wait,  now,"  whispered  the  sick  woman,  eagerly  fixing  her 
eyes  upon  the  glass,  whose  contents  were  already  in  a  state  of  strange  ebulli- 
tion, foaming,  flashing,  and  sparkling  through  and  through,  as  if  interpenetrated 
with  tiny  shafts  of  flame,  while  a  dark  wave  of  color,  as  if  it  were  the  breath  of 
the  serpent,  came  creeping  up  the  sides  of  the  ruby  bowl,  changing  its  pure  tint 
to  a  turbid  stain.  The  boiling  contents  reached  the  lips  of  the  glass,  the  turbid 
stain  sullied  the  last  line  of  color,  and,  with  a  clear,  sharp  explosion,  the  glass 
flew  into  a  million  pieces. 

Dr.  Luttrell,  startled  from  his  sleep,  sprang  hastily  to  his  feet,  approached 
the  table,  saw  all,  understood  all,  and  turned  to  Neria  with  the  look  upon  his 
face  of  Satan  summoned  to  answer  for  his  conspiracy,  bhe  confronted  him  as 
did  Michael  confront  that  Satan.  He  turned  to  his  wife,  who  had  sunk  back 
upon  her  pillows,  pale  and  breathless.  As  he  approached  she  suddenly  aroused, 
and  grasped  his  hands  in  both  of  hers,  while  in  her  eyes,  the  weary  question  an- 
swered at  last,  gave  place  to  a  tender  and  fathomless  love,  unmingled  with  reproach 


CIPHER.  117 

"  It  was  not  needed,"  said  she.  "  I  would  have  died  if  you  had  told  me  it 
was  necessary  to  your  happiness  that  I  should.  I  knew  you  loved  her  better 
than  me  always,  but  you  might  have  told  me,  and  let  me  go  away  somewhere  out 
of  your  sight,  and  die  of  my  broken  heart  as  surely,  and  less  painfully.  I  have 
suffered  so  much.  It  was  hard  to  feel  my  life  torn  out  of  me  inch  by  inch — it 
was  such  a  brave  young  life  when  you  began.  But  don't  be  sorry — not  too  sorry 
—I  am  willing  now,  although  when  I  began  to  know,  I  was  not — and  I  fought 
against  it,  fought  hard,  and  tried  not  to  believe.  It  was  to  find  out  that  I  watched 
you  always,  and  I  read  it  at  last.  It  began  far  down  in  your  eyes,  so  far  that  it 
only  showed  like  the  great  dim  creatures  that  live  under  the  sea,  and  then  it 
came  up  slowly,  slowly,  and  every  day  I  read  it  plainer,  until  now  it  is  written 
there  so  that  a  child  might  read,  Z>,  £,  a,  t,  h — that's  the  way  it  goes.  Don't 
look  at  any  one — don't  let  that  angel  see,  who  was  here  just  now — he  might 
write  it  with  his  finger  on  your  forehead,  just  as  God  did  on  Cain's,  you  know — 
I  am  so  tired  now — so — tired.  Good-by — don't  be  too  sorry — when — " 

The  next  breath  that  crossed  the  white  lips  was  inarticulate,  then  came  a 
long  sigh  that  seemed  to  strike  a  chill  through  all  the  air  of  the  chamber,  and 
then  the  pale,  sad  face  dropped  of  a  sudden  into  the  sharp  outlines,  the  marble 
rigidity,  unmistakably  distinguishing  the  most  sleep-like  death  from  the  most 
death-like  sleep.  The  eyelids  drooped,  but  again  slowly  opened,  and  with  the 
last  instinct  of  vitality  the  eyes  turned  to  those  of  Luttrell,  while  from  their  blue 
depths  arose  once  more  the  solemn  question,  whose  answer  was  Death,  and 
stood  there  patiently — stood,  even  when  Neria,  with  trembling  hands,  had  closed 
over  it  the  lids  that  could  not  hide  it,  stood  there  when  the  pale  form  lay  encof- 
fined,  when  the  earth  was  laid  upon  it  ;  and  when  he,  the  mourner,  came  back 
to  his  lonely  home,  the  question  was  there  before  him,  always,  everywhere,  wait- 
ing, waiting,  always  waiting,  till  it  forced  the  answer  to  his  own  eyes,  and  he 
shrank  away  from  men  lest  they  should  read  it  there — shrank  most  of  all  from 
Neria,  of  whom  the  dying  woman  had  bid  him  beware,  as  the  angel  whom  God 
had  sent  to  write  the  secret  upon  his  brow. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
CHLOE'S  SECRET. 

"So  disasters  come  not  singly,"  murmured  Neria,  as  she  rose  from  the 
couch,  upon  which  she  had  thrown  herself  on  returning  from  Cragness,  and  pre- 
pared to  obey  a  summons  to  the  bedside  of  Chloe,  the  negress,  whose  health 
had  been  rapidly  failing  ever  since  her  nocturnal  excursion,  and  who  now,  as  she 
felt  her  last  moments  approach,  sent  an  urgent  message  to  her  young  mistress, 
imploring  an  interview  without  delay.  Wan  and  trembling  from  her  late  vigiis 
and  the  terrible  doubts  filling  her  mind  with  regard  to  Mrs.  Luttrell's  death, 
Neria  came,  and  seated  herself  beside  Chloe's  pillow,  looking  like  a  waiting 
spirit  sent  to  conduct  the  almost  enfranchised  soul  to  its  eternal  home.  The 
violence  of  the  disease  was  past,  as  was  its  suffering ;  and  death,  in  his  grisliest, 
most  unrelenting  form,  had  laid  his  hand  upon  the  poor  distorted  body,  soon  to 
be  all  his  own.  "  You  do  not  suffer  now,  Chloe  ?  "  asked  Neria,  finding  that  the 
sufferer  did  not  speak. 

"  No,  mist'ss,  I's  struck  wid  def,"  said  Chloe,  simply.  "  But  I's  got  suffin 
to  tell  you  fust,  mist'ss.  I's  hated  you  awful  bad,  fust  and  last,  but  'pears  like, 
17 


ii8  CIPHER. 

now  I's  goin'  to  die,  as  if  I  see  things  diff'ent.  Miss  'Nita  was  de  one  dat  put 
'im  in  my  head.  Mas'r's  fust  wife  was  her  darter,  you  see,  missy — " 

"  Mrs.  Vaughn  was  Mrs.  Rhee's  daughter  !  "  exclaimed  Neria,  in  amazement. 

"  Yes,  missy,  and  dey  was  bof  slaves,  jes'  like  me,"  replied  the  negress,  with 
a  diabolic  grin  on  her  pinched  features. 

Neria  looked  at  her  in  silent  dismay. 

"You  see,  missy,  w'en  mas'r  was  a  young  fellow,  he  went  travellin'  down 
Souf,  an'  one  day  he  see  Miss  'Nita  put  up  for  sell  on  de  auction  block  cause 
our  ole  mas'r  was  dead  berry  sudden,  and  his  wife  was  mad  wid  'Nita,  cause  ole 
mas'r  like  her  de  bes'.  So  Mas'r  Vaughn  buy  her  an'  gib  her  her  freedom,  an' 
den  he  bought  me  'cause  I'd  alluz  nussed  Miss  'Nita,  an'  she  was  drefful  fond 
ob  me.  Well,  we  stayed  long  a'  Mas'r  Vaughn,  an'  went  trabellin  in  Europe  a 
while.  You  see,  mist'ss,  he  was  so  kin'  he  couldn'  say  no  w'en  she  axed  to  go  ; 
an'  she  couldn'  bear  to  part  from  him  nohow,  she  was  dat  fon'  ob  him.  Den  we 
come  home,  and  Miss  'Nita's  darter,  dat  had  been  at  de  Norf  at  a  boardin'-school, 
was  growed  up,  an'  Mas'r  Vaughn  bought  her,  so's  not  to  let  her  young  mas'r 
get  holt  of  her,  as  he  meant  to,  an'  den  she  was  dat  pooty,  an'  arter  a  w'ile  lie 
married  her,  an'  den  lily  Missy  Franc  was  borned,  but  as  pooty  as  she  is,  she 
got  de  black  drop  in  her,  same  as  ole  Clo'.  An'  'twor  Miss  'Nita  put  me  up  to 
pizonin'  you  in  de  choc'late,  an'  now  I's  tole  all.  Not  quite  dough — hoi'  on  a 
minute.  Miss  Neria.  W'en  your  mammy  was  fotch  in  here  dat  night  dat  M  ss 
Gabrielle  died,  I  was  tole  to  lay  her  out,  'cause  she  was  stone  dead  w'cn  dey 
foun'  her,  an'  so  I  did.  She'd  got  on  a  braceret  dat  I  gib  to  Miss  'Nita,  an'  s:Te 
gib  it  to  mas'r,  but  'sides  dat,  dere  was  a  book  full  ob  writin,'  wid  shiny  hooks  to 
it,  an'  a  picter  of  a  gen'l'man  inside  ob  it,  in  her  pocket,  an'  a  ring  on  her  linger, 
an'  dem  I  kep'  for  mysef." 

"  The  book  with  writing  in  it !  O,  Chloe,  where  is  that  ? "  asked  Neria, 
breathlessly. 

A  capricious  gleam  of  the  hunchback's  constitutional  malice  shot  from  her 
eyes.  "  I  didn'  t'out,  missy,  dat  I'd  eber  tell  you  dat,"  said  she. 

"  But  you  will,  Chloe — O,  Chloe,  I  do  not  know  my  father's  name.  I  never 
saw  my  mother's  face." 

"  Dere's  lots  ob  pooty  gals  down  Souf  just  as  bad  off  as  dat,  an'  wusser, 
too,  cause  dey  is  sold  roun'  from  one  mas'r  to  anodder  just  as  it  happens,"  said 
Chloe,  sullenlv. 

"  Chloe,  the  Lord  is  waiting  for  your  soul.  Will  you  go  to  him  and  say,  '  I 
might  have  made  one  of  your  creatures  happy,  and  I  would  not,  I  did  not  ? '  " 
asked  Neria,  with  solemn  earnestness.  A  spasm  of  sudden  pain  contorted  the 
whole  body  of  the  negress,  and  she  threw  herself  into  a  horrible  grotesque  atti- 
tude. 

"  Obi's  a  comin'  arter  me  ag'in,"  shrieked  she,  writhing  to  and  fro  upon  her 
bed. 

Neria  laid  a  firm  cool  hand  upon  her  forehead.  "It  is  the  truth  that  tortures 
you  thus,"  said  she.  "  Speak  it  out,  for  your  own  sake." 

But  a  fiercer  convulsion  of  pain  seized  upon  the  unhappy  wretch,  even  as 
she  spoke.  She  grasped  at  Neria's  hands,  and  wrenched  them  within  her  own 
until  the  pain  forced  a  deep  flush  over  the  pale  face  of  the  young  woman,  who 
yet  made  no  effort  to  release  them,  who  even  forgot  to  pity  the  suffering  before 
her  in  the  devouring  anxiety  that  had  seized  upon  her.  A  sudden  and  terrible 
strength  surged  through  her  will,  and  inspired  her  whole  soul.  Fixing  her 


CIPHER.  119 

dilated  eyes  upon  the  dying  woman,  bending  her  face  until  her  pure  breath 
mingled  with  Chloe's  expiring  sigh,  she  issued  her  irresistible  mandate. 

"  Speak ;  speak  out !  Where  is  this  paper  ?  Tell  me,  or  you  shall  not 
die ! " 

"  The  tree — the  old  oak  tree  " — a  horrible  sound  closed  the  sentence  ;  it  was 
the  death-rattle,  and  with  it  the  stiffening  fingers  slid  from  their  grasp  of  Neria's 
hands,  the  painful  struggle  ceased,  and  the  sufferings  of  the  unfortunate  creature 
were  at  an  end.  ....... 

It  was  not  till  night,  and  in  the  seclusion  of  her  own  chamber,  that  Neria 
unfolded  the  little  canvas-covered  package  she  had  found  in  the  cavity  of  the 
oak,  where  it  had  lain  for  months  guarded  by  Chloe's  loathsome  familiar.  A 
small,  thick  note-book,  clasped  with  silver,  lay  within,  and  as  Neria  carefully 
opened  it,  the  pages,  glued  together  by  mould  and  time,  tore  apart  as  reluctantly 
as  if  they  knew  that  the  secret  of  a  lifetime  was  about  to  be  snatched  from  out 
their  keeping.  Within  the  cover  lay  a  miniature,  painted  on  ivory,  the  picture 
of  a  young  man,  handsome,  proud,  noble  ;  the  face  not  of  a  stranger,  but  as  fa- 
miliar to  Neria  as  her  own,  and  yet  she  knew  that  she  had  never  seen  it  in  the 
flesh.  Where  then  ?  Her  mind  wandered  to  Mrs.  Luttrell  and  her  death-cham- 
ber, and  chiding  itself  for  the  wandering,  came  back  to  study  every  lineament 
of  the  face  already  beloved,  for  nature  told  her  that  it  was  her  father's.  And 
still  the  vision  of  that  great  gloomy  chamber,  with  its  mournful  bed,  and  the  pale 
figure  lying  so  motionless  upon  it,  came  floating  between  her  and  the  picture, 
enveloped,  blurred,  effaced  it,  clamored,  "turn  to  me,  I  am  the  solution,  this  the 
puzzle." 

Beneath  the  picture  lay  a  bit  of  folded  paper.  Neria  opened  it,  and  found 
a  little  plain  ring,  small  enough  for  her  own  slender  finger,  and  engraved  with 
the  initials  G.  de  V.  from  E?  V.  This,  Neria  laid  aside  with  the  picture,  and 
turned  impatiently  to  the  little  book  which  was,  she  hoped,  to  explain  every- 
thing. It  was  a  journal,  and  the  first  date  was  that  of  twenty-two  years  before  : 

Here  am  I  at  Venice,  and  here  I  will  stay  for  a  while,  at  least,  for  in  truth  I  am  tired 
of  rambling.  Besides,  where  are  eyes  like  those  of  Giovanna  Vascetti,  and  where  such 
clustering  locks  of  gold?  The  real  Venetian  style  so  rare  out  of  Titian.  Heigho !  What 
more  is  there  of  life  ?  I  believe  I  have  seen  it  all,  and  une  vie  rlchauffee  must  be  the 
tamest  of  all  feasts.  Love  !  Bah,  I  have  loved  a  hundred  women,  and  twenty  of  them 
had  hair  as  bright  and  eyes  as  blue  as  those  of  Donna  Giovanna.  What  do  I  care  ?  I 
wonder  if  owe  mightn't  drop  lazily  to  the  bottom  of  these  canals  and  lie  there  very  com- 
fortably. It  would  save  such  a  deal  of  bore,  as  they  &ay  in  England.  England  ?  Well, 
home  I  may  as  well  call  it,  for  I  believe  I  was  born  there.  Stop,  I  will  begin  by  register- 
ing myself  duly  at  the  commencement  of  this  my  journal,  that  the  Austrian  mouchard 
who,  doubtless,  will  read  it,  may  find  no  trouble  in  identifying  its  writer,  and  bringing  him 
to  justice  for  whatever  treasonable  expressions  he  may  see  fit  to  insert.  First,  then,  I  am 
Edward  Vaughn,  five-and-twenty  years  of  age,  six  feet  high,  with  brown  curled  hair,  hazel 
eyes,  etc.,  etc  My  father  was  Alfred  Vaughn,  a  gentleman  of  America,  State  and  town 
unknown,  to  me  at  least.  He  left  home  on  account  of  fami  y  differences,  and  not  as  an 
emissary  of  the  American  Government  to  spy  out  the  secrets  of  that  of  Austria — (that's 
for  you,  man  mouchard.)  My  mother  was  a  Spanish  gypsy,  with  whom  my  father  chose 
to  fall  in  love,  and  I  suppose,  to  marry.  I  never  saw  her,  or  heard  much  more  than  is 
here  set  down.  I  have  lived  at  English  schools  and  college  until  three  years  ago,  when 
my  father  appeared,  from  the  Lord  only  knows  where,  said  to  me,  "  Come,  my  friend,  let 
us  be  comrades.  Forget  that  there  is  a  tie  of  blood  between  us,  as  I  shall  ;  otherwise  we 
shall  hate  each  other."  I  saw  that  he  haa  reason  in  his  decree,  and  I  assented.  We  lived 
in  Paris,  Petersburg,  in  Vienna,  at  Baden,  Rome,  London,  wherever  the  world  lives.  We 
saw  it,  and  Vaughn  ftre  showed  its  secrets  to  Vaughn  fih ;  until  when,  a  year  ago, 


120  CIPHER. 

Vaughn  pirc  went  to  flaneur  in  another  world,  Vaughn  fils  was  quite  competent  to  protect 
himself  in  this.     Vtila  taut ! 

So  finished  the  first  entry.  Those  that  followed  it  were  more  fragmentary 
and  interrupted,  giving  little  information  beyond  memoranda  of  the  writer's  en- 
gagements, and  occasional  aphorisms  in  the  same  spirit  as  the  first  page.  But 
under  a  date  of  two  months  later,  came  an  entry,  more  carefully  written,  which 
Neria  devoured  as  fast  as  her  eyes  could  decipher  the  blurred  and  faded  script. 

Giovanna  is  an  angel,  and  I — well  I  am  ashamed  of  my  audacity  in  loving  her.  Here 
is  her  little  note  before  me — "  my  heart,  my  soul,  my  noble  lord,  my  king  and  law,"  so  she 
calls  me — and  I  ?  When  I  look  back  through  my  life  and  count  its  stains — stains  of  which 
the  smallest  and  faintest  puts  me  beyond  the  pale  of  her  most  daring  conception  of  wick- 
edness, I  feel  such  torture  as  Satan  might,  if  bound  at  the  foot  of  the  Throne.  And  she 
loves  me  !  Yes,  all  her  pure  bright  life  is  placed  between  my  hands  to  cherish  or  to 
crush.  If  I  bid  her  forth,  she  will  leave  her  father's  palazzo  to-night,  and  join  me  in  wan- 
derings as  wild  as  those  from  which  my  father  rescued  his  gypsy  bride.  Ah,  ha !  I 
wonder,  after  all,  if  that  gypsy  mother  does  not  rule  my  blood,  and  if  I  might  not  be  hap- 
pier as  king  of  a  tribe,  with  a  bold-browed,  black-eyed  queen  at  my  right  hand,  than  with 
this  golden-haired  maiden,  who  shrinks,  if  I  do  but  bend  my  brow  a  little  earnestly. 
Pshaw  !  Heaven  sends  an  angel  to  draw  me  out  of  the  slough,  when  I  sink  deeper  every 
day  of  my  life,  and  I  hesitate  to  yield  myself  to  her  guidance.  Let  me  not  believe  that 
my  taste  is 'already  too  vitiated  to  appreciate  a  pure  love,  that  caviare  and  not  bread  is  mj 
staff  of  life.  No,  rather  I  will  hope  that  it  is  conscience,  which  withholds  me  from  too 
eagerly  accepting  this  affection  ;  that  it  is  because  I  feel  too  keenly  the  vast  gulf  between 
this  pure  child  and  myself,  which  life — my  life  has  set.  If  I  marry  her,  can  I  assure  my- 
self of  her  happiness,  and  without  such  assurance,  should  I  not  be  the  basest  of  mankind 
to  join  her  to  my  capricious  life  and  uncertain  fortunes  ?  Have  I  the  strength  to  make 
myself  what  Giovanna's  husband  should  be,  and,  failing  in  the  effort,  would  not  the  hu- 
miliation of  failure  sink  me  lower  than  I  already  am  ?  Bah*!  It  is  too  late  to  make  Egbert 
Vaughn  into  a  saint,  and  he  is  yet  too  much  of  a  man  of  honor  to  pretend  to  be  other 
than  he  is,  or  to  sully  the  innocent  life  of  the  purest  woman  he  ever  knew  by  bringing  it 
into  contact  with  his  own.  It  is  better,  my  Giovanna,  that  your  blue  eyes  should  weep  a 
few  idle  tears  now,  at  what  you  will  fancy  my  unkindness  than  that  by-and-by  your  heart 
should  weep  tears  of  blood  at  the  certainty  of  my  unworthiness.  Go  you  your  way,  and  I 
mine — the  one  leads  up,  the  other  down. 

Neria  paused,  and  taking  the  picture  from  the  table,  looked  at  it  long  and 
earnestly,  seeking,  in  the  noble  cast  of  the  features,  the  lofty  bearing  of  the  head, 
a  contradiction  of  the  characteristics  which  the  journal  made  no  attempt  to  dis- 
guise. But  still  the  haunting  remembrance  of  the  chamber  at  Cragness,  and 
Mrs.  Luttrell's  death-bed  swept  between  her  and  the  pictured  face.  She  kissed 
it  sadly,  and  laid  it  down,  murmuring,  "  My  father  still  !  I  know  that  you 
were  my  father." 

The  next  date  was  three  weeks  later,  and  under  it  was  written  : 

"  L'/iomme  propose,  mats  le  Dieu  dispose"  is  as  true  a  saying  to-day  as  when  it  was  first 
spoken.  Giovanna  is  my  wife,  and  here  we  are  hidden  in  the  little  village  of  Fieschi,  as 
happy  and  as  loving  as  the  ringdoves  that  coo  all  about  our  cottage.  And  it  has  all  come 
about  in  such  an  irresistible  sort  of  fashion,  that  I  take  no  shame  to  myself  for  incon- 
sistency, even  when  I  read  the  last  two  or  three  pages  of  this  journal.  It  was  just  after 
writing  them  that  I  got  Giovanna's  little,  teary,  heart-broken  note,  saying  that  the  old 
dragon  of  a  marchesa  had  discovered  her  daughter's  tendresse  for  my  unworthy  self,  a 
foreigner,  a  heretic,  and  above  all  a  mauvais  sujet ;  and,  that  at  the  end  of  a  terrible  scold- 
ing, had  come  the  decree  that  my  poor  little  girl  was  to  return  forthwith  to  her  convent, 
and  there  await  the  movements  of  her  parents,  who  were  already  arranging  a  match  between 
theii  daughter  and  Count  Montakli,  the  ugliest,  oldest,  and  richest  man  in  Venice.  She 


CIPHER.  121 

did  not  say,  this  little  Giovanna  of  mine,  "  Come  and  rescue  me,  for  I  love  you."  but 
she  did  say,  "  Good-by  forever — unless  I  see  you  for  a  moment  on  the  road  to  the  con- 
vent." 

Of  course  I  was  on  the  road  to  the  convent,  and  with  the  aid  of  one  servant  per- 
sonated so  successfully  a  whole  troop  of  banditti,  that  coachman  and  guard  fled  in  terror 
from  the  first  glimpse  of  our  excellent  get-up,  and  the  hideous  old  duenna,  hiding  herself 
hi  the  bottom  of  the  carriage,  shrieked  dismally, 

"  O,  Donna  Giovanna,  we  are  but  lost  maidens.  These  banditti  respect  neither  youth 
nor  beauty." 

We  left  the  ancient  dame  uncomforted,  for  her  mistake  was  precisely  the  idea  w« 
wished  to  inculcate  ;  and,  diving  into  the  mountains,  soon  found  the  three  horses  hidden 
there  since  morning,  mounted,  and  in  a  few  hours  were  safely  housed  at  this  place,  recom- 
mended by  my  valet,  who  was,  I  believe,  born  here.  Before  night  we  were  married,  and 
already  my  wife  has  nearly  done  blushing  when  Paolo  addresses  her  as  signora. 

The  last  words  were  nearly  unintelligible,  and  Neria  vainly  tried  to  separate 
the  few  succeeding  leaves  ;  the  mould  and  damp  had  so  firmly  united  them  that 
she  found  it  impossible,  and  it  was  only  with  great  difficulty  that  she  was  able 
to  decipher  the  following  brief  entry,  under  the  date  of  nearly  a  year  later: 

The  child  is  gone,  stolen  I  have  no  doubt,  Giovanna  is  inconsolable,  and  I  am  more 
affected  than  I  would  have  believed  possible.  Paolo  must  have  played  traitor  and  sold 
the  secret  of  our  hiding  place  to  the  Vascetti,  who,  considering  Giovanna  irredeemably 
lost,  have  snatched  her  infant  as  a  brand  from  the  burning,  and  will  educate  it  to  take  its 
mother's  place  in  their  house.  I  suspect  all  this,  but  cannot  know,  at  least,  not  at  pres- 
ent. My  immediate  concern  is  to  hide  Giovanna  where  they  will  not  get  hold  of  her  also. 
We  must  leave  the  country  I  think.  The  old  dragon  would  not  flinch  at  poisoning  her, 
if  she  fancied  it  would  wipe  out  the  stain  upon  their  name. 

After  this,  for  many  pages,  Neria  could  distinguish  only  an  occasional  word 
or  sentence  from  which  to  infer  that  the  writer,  with  his  wife,  had  removed  from 
Italy  to  Switzerland,  and  that  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  his  child  was  actually 
in  the  hands  of  the  family  of  his  wife,  from  which  he  found  it  impossible  to  res- 
cue her.  The  next  decipherable  page  was  dated  in  England  somewhat  more 
than  a  year  after  the  last  entry,  and  ran  thus  : 

I  have  decided  at  last  to  go  to  America  and  look  for  my  father's  family.  Giovanna 
wishes  it.  She  is  haunted  with  terror  lest  this  child  should  be  stolen  from  her  as  was  the 
first.  It  is  a  pretty  little  creature  and  we  call  her  Neria,  because  she  was  born  upon  the 
sea.  We  shall  take  passage  in  a  sailing  vessel  bound  for  Boston,  in  Massachusetts,  withjn  a 
few  weeks,  our  mejms  not  allowing  us  to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a  steam-passage.  In- 
deed we  have  been  obliged  to  sell  some  of  our  valuables  already,  to  raise  the  necessary 
funds.  Giovanna  has  insisted  upon  disposing  of  her  most  important  jewels,  and  would 
even  have  sold  the  serpent-bracelet,  the  hereditary  ornament  of  the  daughters  of  her 
house,  would  I  have  permitted  it,  but  this  must  be  kept,  at  any  rate,  to  deck  the  arm  of 
Httle  Neria,  when  it  shall  have  attained  mature  proportions.  I  am  sorry  Giovanna  could 
not  have  possessed  the  goblet  also.  She  says  an  ancestress,  a  second  Lucretia  as  it 
woulc1.  seem,  had  these  two  golden  serpents  fashioned  in  precise  similitude,  except  that  be- 
tween the  jaws  of  the  one  was  set  a  tiny  Venetian  goblet,  and  in  the  head  of  the  other, 
intenc'ecl  to  be  worn  as  a  bracelet,  was  placed  a  small  quantity  of  a  deadly  poison,  which 
may  be  ejected  by  pressing  the  finger  upon  the  jewel  forming  his  crest,  when  a  slender 
spear  shoots  forward,  pierces  the  finger  and  leaves  death  in  the  wound.  Thus  the  pos- 
sessor of  this  brace  of  serpents  commands,  through  them,  both  the  lives  of  others  and  his 
own  safety.  My  gentle  Giovanna  will  never  be  likely  to  use  the  weapon  or  need  the  de- 
fence, but  I  like  the  idea  of  these  hereditary  jewels,  and  thank  the  sanguinary  ancestress 
for  her  idea,  and  also  for  leaving  us  her  name,  graven  upon  both  serpents  beneath  the 
crest  of  her  house.  Fiamma  Vasetti,  thou  wast  a  woman  of  rare  fancy  and  had  a  very 
pretty  idea  of  assassination  !  Well,  weJl,  what  is  all  this  to  the  present  I  must  set  my* 


T22  CIPHER. 

self  to  making  the  necessary  arrangements  for  our  passage.  I  wonder  if  any  of  the 
Vaughns  survive,  and  if  they  will  own  their  errant  kinsman.  Not  that  I  will  ask  more 
than  a  welcome  of  them  :  I  mean  to  earn  my  living  for  myself  somehow,  but  just  how  I 
cannot  now  say.  Since  I  am  husband  of  Giovanna,  I  dare  not  pursue  the  little  occupa- 
tions by  which  my  honored  father  accumulated  the  property  his  son  has  just  spent  I 
detest  the  sight  of  a  green  table  and  a  pack  of  cards,  and  would  as  soon  play  with  the 
bones  of  my  ancestors  as  with  those  my  father  so  often  tossed,  and  so  invariably  to  his 
own  advantage.  Eh  bien  !  I  find  by  my  father's  papers  that  his  family  lived  near  a  little 
town  called  Carrick,  and  thither  we  first  will  betake  us  on  arriving  in  America.  If  these 
Vaughns  repudiate  me  they  cannot  fail  to  welcome  my  lovely  Giovanna,  my  innocent  lit- 
tle Neria,  and  if  they  will  make  them  happy  I  ask  nothing  for  myself. 

This  was  the  last.  A  few  more  pages  had  been  partially  written  over,  but 
the  disconnected  words  still  legible  gave  no  clue  to  the  meaning  of  the  whole, 
and  Neria  was  fain  to  finish  the  sad  story  for  herself.  She  readily  conceived 
that  the  voyage  had  been  accomplished,  that  her  father  had  died  either  upon  the 
passage  or  soon  after  his  arrival  in  America,  and  that  the  hapless  wife  thus 
widowed  had  attempted  to  reach,  with  her  infant,  the  unknown  iriends,  of  whom 
her  husband  had  doubtless  told  her.  Reduced  to  absolute  penury,  she  had 
probably  been  obliged  to  perform  the  last  part  of  her  journey  on  foot,  and  be- 
fore reaching  Carrick  had  sunk  upon  the  spot  where  Mr.  Vaughn  had  found  her. 
Neria  covered  her  eyes  and  shuddered,  as  fancy,  or  it  may  be  something  which 
is  not  fancy,  pictured  before  her  the  black  bitter  night,  the  angry  sea,  the  deso- 
late shore,  and  the  poor  young  mother  struggling  on,  her  baby  in  her  arms, 
shrinking  before  the  piercing  blast  which  froze  the  tears  upon  her  cheeks  before 
they  had  time  to  fall,  while  close  behind  her  stalked  Death's  grim  form,  his 
fleshless  jaws  grinning,  his  bony  hand  already  outstretched  to  seize  his  uncon- 
scious prey. 

"  My  mother,  my  mother  !  "  moaned  Neria,  and  in  the  bitterness  of  her  pain 
felt  a  momentary  resentment  at  Vaughn,  that  he  had  not  arrived  in  time  to 
save  mother  as  well  as  child. 

She  took  up  the  journal  again  and  strained  her  sight  in  the  effort  to  distin- 
guish something  more  in  the  blurred  pages  at  the  end  of  the  book.  Here  and 
there  a  word  was  easily  to  be  read,  but  nothing  connected  or  intelligible,  until  in 
the  middle  of  the  last  page  appeared  the  words  :  "secret  cipher  of  the  Vaughns, 
formed  by  using  our  motto  as  an  alphabet,  it  has  been — "  Neria  dropped  the 
book,  as  a  sudden  conviction  flashed  across  her  mind.  "  The  secret !  Poor 
Gillies's  secret !  "  murmured  she,  and  flying  to  her  desk  she  found  and  opened 
upon  the  table  the  letter  of  Reginald  Vaughn  conrided  to  her  keeping  by  the 
musician.  Her  eyes  ran  hastily  over  the  familiar  sentences  until  she  came  to 
the  cipher,  upon  which  she  had  so  often  an'd  so  vainly  pondered  : 

EDAOLU  OE  OLUDLUV. 

The  motto  of  the  Vaughns  was  as  familiar  to  her  as  her  own  name,  and 
hastily  writing  upon  a  bit  of  paper  the  words  :  "  Dieu  le  roy  et  lefoy  du  Vaughn" 
she  placed  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  beneath  the  letters  of  those  words,  and 
by  assuming  the  upper  letter  as  the  name  of  the  lower  one,  found  herself  pos- 
sessed of  a  new  alphabet,  by  whose  aid  she  translated  the  three  words  of  cipher 
into  the  phrase  :  "  Father  of  Heralds." 

Here,  however,  was  a  fresh  enigma  ;  and  Neria,  utterly  exhausted  in  body  and 
mind,  put  it  aside  for  the  consideration  of  a  calmer  moment,  and  locking  the 
journal,  the  picture,  and  letter  in  her  desk,  threw  herself  upon  the  bed  with  eyes 
already  closed,  just  as  the  earliest  bird  uttered  his  warning  note  of  the  coming 
morn. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE     GOBLET     FRAME. 

WHEN  Neria  awoke  from  a  brief  and  disturbed  sleep,  it  was  some  time  be- 
fore she  found  it  possible  to  understand  what  change  had  come  upon  her  life. 
And  as  one  after  another  of  the  strange  revelations  which  Fate,  after  withholding 
them  from  her  mc«t  urgent  researches,  had  capriciously  piled  before  her  in  a  sin- 
gle day,  rose  to  he  .nind,  she  set  it  aside  to  turn  to  another,  which  for  the  mo- 
ment seemed  more  important.  She  was  herself  a  Vaughn  then  !  She  had  the 
&ame  right  by  birth  to  his  proud  name,  as  the  husband  who  had  bestowed  it 
upon  her.  She  might  name  her  mother  with  tears,  perhaps,  but  without  a  blush. 
And  her  sister  ?  Did  not  that  dying  woman  say  that  the  Venetian  goblet  was 
an  inheritance  from  her  own  family,  and  was  it  not  in  exact  similitude  with  the 
bracelet  which  Vaughn  had,  soon  after  their  marriage,  given  her  as  her  sole  in- 
heritance, the  only  relic  of  her  parents  ?  And  was  it  not  thus — and  as  this 
thought  flashed  into  Neria's  mind  she  caught  her  breath  sharply  as  if  the  poi- 
soned tongue  of  the  golden  serpent  had  pierced  her  own  flesh — was  it  not  the  re- 
semblance in  her  father's  picture,  to  the  face  of  that  most  unhappy  and  foully- 
wronged  of  women  which  had  haunted  her  when  she  first  beheld  it  ?  Had 
she  not  sufficient  ground  for  the  conviction  that  Doctor  Luttrell's  wife  had 
been  her  own  and  only  sister  ?  And  he  ?  With  what  emotions  must  she  hence- 
forth meet  him  ?  And  what  was  her  duty,  in  regard  to  communicating  her  sus- 
picions to  those  who  would  sharply  investigate  their  foundation  ?  And  even 
were  they  verified,  what  satisfaction  could  the  result  bring  to  the  life  already 
broken  upon  the  dark  and  cruel  purpose  of  this  insatiable  man  ? 

And  Francia  !  Brilliant,  careless,  beautiful  Francia  !  whose  life  had  yet 
known  no  darker  shadow  than  a  lover's  quarrel,  how  could  she  bear  the  shame 
and  misery  of  the  story  the  old  nurse  had  told  of  Vaughn's  first  wife,  and  her 
mother  ?  But  at  this  point  Neria  once  more  paused  aghast.  Vaughn  !  Her 
husband,  the  man  whom  if  she  had  not  wholly  loved  she  had  revered  and 
trusted,  and  accepted,  in  his  every  deed  and  thought,  as  worthy  to  be  her  law  ! 
What  was  this  story  of  his  early  life,  almost  his  present  life  indeed  ?  Mrs.  Rhee 
had  lived  at  Bonniemeer  until  Vaughn's  marriage  with  herself,  and  Chloe  had 
distinctly  said  that  the  housekeeper  had  loved  her  master  with  an  idolatrous  pas- 
sion, and  had  jealously  sought  the  life  of  the  woman  to  whom  he  had  given  the 
love  for  which  she  had  pined  through  so  many  years.  How  had  this  woman 
dared  to  love  him  thus,  and  how  had  he  received  her  love  ? 

Neria  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  a  hot  blush  tingled  over  her  face  and 
neck,  and  even  to  her  fingers'  ends.  O,  if  Vaughn  was  not  pure  and  good,  what 
hope  was  there  that  she  should  ever  love  him  better  than  she  had  done  ?  And 


124  CIPHER. 

the  hereditary  secret  of  the  Vaughns,  whose  solution. became  more  binding  upon 
her  than  even  before,  now  that  she  was  herself  a  party  to  it,  and  now  that  a 
certain  clue  had  been  placed  in  her  hands — what  was  she  to  do  in  this  matter  ? 

A  sudden  <esoiution  formed  itself  in  her  mind,  and  seating  herself  at  the 
table,  she  hastily  wrote  a  few  lines  to  Fergus,  merely  saying  that  she  needed  his 
help  and  counsel,  and  begging  him  to  come  to  her  without  delay.  The  address 
was  hardly  written,  when,  after  a  gentle  tap,  the  door  was  opened  by  Francia, 
who  entered  so  quietly  that  Neria,  looking  up  in  surprise,  was  startled  to  see 
how  pale  and  haggard  she  looked,  and  how  large  her  eyes  had  grown  in  a  single 
night  of  watching  and  weeping. 

"  1  have  come  to  see  if  you  are  ill,  dear,"  said  the  girl,  gliding  behind 
Neria's  chair  to  avoid  her  questioning  eyes. 

"  No,  Franc,  but  I  can  see  that  you  are,"  and  Neria,  rising,  took  Francia's 
hands  in  hers,  and  looked  into  her  fair  face,  while  the  malign  assertion  of  the 
old  negress  rushed  back  upon  her  memory — ''  She  got  de  brack  drop  in  her  veins 
for  all  her  pooty  looks." 

With  a  sudden  and  womanly  impulse,  Neria  opened  her  arms,  and  taking  her 
adopted  sister  close  to  her  heart,  kissed  her  tenderly,  and  with  a  warmth  very 
unusual  to  her  ordinarily  reticent  temperament.  Francia,  whose  heavy  eyes 
needed  but  this  invitation  to  overflow,  hid  her  face  upon  the  other's  neck,  and 
wept  unrestrainedly,  while  Neria,  gently  smoothing  the  ripples  of  her  hair,  found 
something  terrible  in  the  thought  that  this  poor  child  had  come  for  shelter  and 
comfort  to  her  of  all  others — to  her,  who  had  become  the  recipient  and  possible 
betrayer  of  a  secret,  before  which  these  tears  should  dry  as  morning  clew  before 
the  terror  of  a  devouring  flame.  The  very  idea  that  she  must  hide  so  much, 
even  while  appearing  to  receive  and  repay  the  mute  confidence  of  these  tears, 
made  Francia's  presence  distasteful  to  Neria's  sensitive  truthfulness,  and  after 
a  few  moments  she  gently  withdrew  from  the  embrace,  and  said,  with  an  attempt 
at  cheerfulness, 

"  I  fancy  we  are  neither  of  us  very  well  or  bright  this  morning,  darling.  Will 
you  please  tell  them  to  send  me  some  coffee  up-stairs,  and  then  take  something 
yourself?  I  will  not  come  down  just  now." 

"Yes,  Neria,"  and  Franc,  wiping  her  eyes,  and  a  little  hurt  at  feeling  her 
confidence  repelled,  was  turning  away,  when  her  eye  caught  the  direction  of  the 
letter  upon  the  table.  A  quick  wave  of  color  swept  into  her  wan  face  ;  and  as 
she  hurried  away,  a  second  burst  of  tears  gave  a  significant  clue  to  the  origin  of 
the  first. 

Neria  looked  after  her  thoughtfully,  and  from  the  door  her  eyes  turned  to  the 
letter  upon  the  table.  "  Yes,"  said  she,  aloud,  "  it  is  right  that  I  should  tell 
Fergus  all — everything.  He  has  as  much  right  to  know  these  matters  as  I." 

An  hour  latter,  Mrs.  Vaughn  ordered  her  pony-carriage,  and  drove  herself 
along  the  beach  to  Cragness,  at  which  place  Doctor  Luttrell  still  lingered.  In- 
quiring for  him,  she  was  shown  at  once  to  the  library  where  he  was  sitting. 
Surprised,  and  yet  relieved  that  she  should  come  to  see  him,  Doctor  Luttrell 
advanced  to  meet  his  guest  with  outstretched  hand.  Neria  looked  at  him  quiet- 
ly, and  the  hand  sunk  as  if  palsy-smitten. 

"  I  supposed  by  your  coming  to  see  me  that  you  were  my  friend,"  said  he, 
sullenly ;  "  or  is  this  a  business  call  ?  I  am  aware  that  my  lease  has  ex- 
pired." 

"  It  is  a  business  call,  but  not  connected  with  your  lease,"  said  Neria,  calmly 
disregarding  the  sneer.  "  I  wish  to  ask  you  some  questions  with  regard  to  the 


CIPHER.  125 

late  Mrs.  Luttrell."  She  fixed  her  eyes  upon  him  as  she  spoke,  and  he,  resist- 
ing the  impulse  to  evade  or  quail  before  that  straightforward  glance,  held  his 
feline  eyes  unwaveringly  upon  hers,  although  in  the  effort  his  lips  grew  white, 
and  contracting  slightly  upon  themselves  gave  a  cold  gleam  of  his  glittering 
teeth  between.  To  speak  was  impossible,  but  a  haughty  bow  signified  his  as- 
sent to  the  proposed  inquiry.  "Will  you  tell  me  Mrs.  Luttrell's  maiden  name  ?" 
asked  Neria,  presently.  AH  expression  of  relief  crossed  Doctor  Luttrell's  face. 
"  I  thought  all  the  world  knew  her  to  have  been  Miss  Davenport,"  said  he, 
with  a  sneer. 

"  I  knew  that  she  was  so  called,  but  I  have  reason  to  suppose  that  she  had 
the  right  to  another  name  by  birth,"  pursued  Neria,  undauntedly. 

Dr.  Luttrell  considered  for  a  moment,  but  seeing  no  sufficient  reason  for  at- 
tempting to  conceal  facts  with  which  Neria  appeared,  at  least,  partially  ac- 
quainted, he  assumed  an  appearance  of  candor,  and  said,  "Certainly.  You 
have  very  probably  heard  that  Mrs.  Luttrell  was  actually  the  daughter  of  an 
Italian  noble,  the  Count  or  Marquis  Vascetti,  who,  like  many  of  his  countrymen, 
retained  nothing  of  the  ancient  splendor  of  his  house,  except  its  haughtiness 
and  its  traditions.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davenport,  spending  a  summer  in  Venice, 
hired  the  palazzo  of  the  Marquis,  who  retained  a  modest  corner  for  himself,  his 
daughter,  and  one  old  servant,  the  last  survivor  of  the  hereditary  retainers  of 
the  family.  The  Davenports  became  much  interested  in  the  daughter,  whose 
name  was  Beatrice,  and  when,  one  fine  morning,  the  old  marquis  was  found 
dead  in  his  bed,  and  it  seemed  probable  that  the  bed  itself  must  be  sold  to  pay 
for  burying  him,  they  stepped  in,  as  the  Deus  ex  machina,  put  the  old  man  de- 
cently under  ground,  or  under  water,  (as  it  is  of  Venice  that  we  speak),  pen- 
sioned the  servant,  left  the  palazzo  to  the  Jew  who  had  foreclosed  his  mortgage 
upon  it,  and  taking  the  poor  little  orphan  under  their  paternal  and  maternal 
wings,  brought  her  home  as  their  adopted  daughter.  Voila  tout !  And  if  you 
find  this  bit  of  family  history  a  bore  and  out  of  taste,  remember,  madam,  that 
it  is  you  who  have  asked  it  of  me." 

In  the  course  of  his  long  address  he  had  recovered  his  native  coolness,  and 
in  speaking  the  last  words,  looked  into  Neria's  face  with  an  assured  smile, 
mingled  with  something  of  supercilious  inquiry,  as  to  her  motive  in  thus  ques- 
tioning upon  matters  which,  as  he  intimated,  were  not  her  own. 

To  this  unspoken  taunt  Neria  quietly  replied.  "  You  will  excuse  the  ap- 
parent intrusiveness  of  my  inquiries  when  I  tell  you  that  Mrs.  Luttrell  was  my 
only  sister.  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  particulars  ;  but  of  the  fact,  your  late 
account  of  her  parentage  has  enabled  me  to  speak  with  certainty.  Will  this 
explanation  I  think  you  will  no  longer  wonder  that  I  should  feel  a  more  than 
common  interest  in  her  life,  or  in  her  death."  And  with  this  last,  she  fixed 
upon  him  such  clear  bright  eyes  that  he  shrunk  as  from  the  pitiless  gaze  of  the 
noonday  sun,  and  could  only  stammer  with  averted  eyes, 

"Your  sister?" 

"  Yes,  my  sister  ;  and  it  is  of  you — of  you,  her  husband — the  sworn  protector 
and  defender  of  the  life  and  happiness  of  that  unfortunate  girl,  that  homeless 
orphan — poor  in  the  midst  of  wealth,  because  denied  the  ties  and  the  love  that 
make  the  humblest  home  a  happy  one — it  is  of  you,  Wyvern  Luttrell,  that  I  ask 
a  reckoning  of  my  sister's  year  of  married  life — the  year  which  has  closed,  in 
pain  and  terror,  the  story  of  her  young  life.  Why  is  she  dead  at  two-and-twenty, 
she  who  should  have  lived  to  see  the  glory  of  maturity— the  peaceful  joy  of  age? 
Why  is  she  dead  ?  " 


126  CIPHER. 

As  her  regard  had  pierced  his  heart,  so  did  her  thrilling  voice  strike  through 
his  brain.  He  shrunk  together,  and,  with  sidelong,  sullen  look,  that  dared  not 
rise  above  her  feet,  muttered,  "  How  am  I  to  tell  ?  Her  time  had  come  ? "  Ne- 
ria  paused  a  moment,  while  her  soul  gathered  its  strength,  and  the  solemn  light 
of  prophecy  made  her  face  awful  in  its  angelic  beauty.  Then  she  said  :  "  And 
God's  time  will  come  at  last  for  you  and  for  me.  Dare  not  approach  me  until  that 
hour."  Livid  and  shrunken  with  terror  and  impotent  rage,  he  made  no  reply, 
offered  no  response  to  ber  gesture  of  farewell,  but  stood,  with  down-dropped 
head  and  hanging  arms,  like  Eugene  Aram,  when,  in  the  clear  morning  light,  he 
saw,  in  all  its  hideous  meaning,  the  vision  of  his  sleeping  hours. 

At  the  door  she  turned  and  said,  coldly  :  "  My  sister,  in  her  last  moments, 
gave  me  the  remnant  of  that  ancient  jewel  of  our  house,  whose  Venetian 
glass  was  shattered  by  the  draught  you  were  about  to  administer  to  her. 
It  is  a  sacred  relic  to  me,  but  can  hardly  be  so  to  you.  Will  you  give  it  to  me  ?" 

He  looked  toward  but  not  at  her,  muttered  something  in  his  throat  which  his 
white  lips  refused  to  articulate,  then  left  the  room,  and  presently  returning  with 
the  goblet  frame  in  his  hand,  offered  it,  without  a  word,  to  Neria. 

She  took  it  as  silently,  hastily  sought  and  found  the  minutely  engraved  ini- 
tials and  crest  which  completed  the  chain  of  evidence  establishing  her  own  and 
Mrs.  Luttrell's  parentage,  and  then,  with  no  pretence  of  leave-taking  to  the 
guilty  man  who  stood  watching  her  with  doubt  and  terror  struggling  in  his 
feline  eyes,  she  withdrew,  leaving  him  alone  with  the  shadows  and  the  memories 
of  that  ghostly  chamber. 

The  next  morning  brought  Fergus  again  to  Bonniemeer.  Neria  welcomed 
him  joyfully,  and  at  first  felt  as  if  half  her  perplexities  were  removed,  now  that 
she  had  so  efficient  a  counsellor  and  assistant  to  whom  she  might  confide  them. 
But,  when  seated  with  him  in  the  library,  she  began  to  consider  at  what  point 
of  the  story  she  should  commence,  she  found  herself  restrained  by  delicacy  to- 
ward Francia,  by  honor  toward  Vaughn,  from  repeating  the  details  given  her  by 
Chloe,  while  a  reluctance  to  show  her  suspicions  of  Doctor  Luttrell  with  any 
one  whomsoever,  deterred  her  from  giving  more  than  a  vague  outline  of  her  sis- 
ter's life  and  death. 

But  the  finding  of  her  father's  journal  and  its  contents,  the  proof  obtained 
from  it  of  her  own  and  Mrs.  Luttrell's  parentage,  as  well  as  the  identity  of  the 
bracelet  and  Venetian  goblet  with  the  hereditary  jewels  of  the  Vascetti,  all  these 
she  related  fully,  as  also  the  story  of  the  secret  trust  bequeathed  by  Reginald 
Vaughn  to  John  Gillies,  and  by  him  to  herself;  all  this  she  repeated  clearly 
and  without  reserve,  ending  by  placing  before  the  young  man  the  letter  of  his 
granduncle,  the  few  lines  left  with  it  by  Gillies  to  her,  and  the  journal  containing 
the  key  to  the  cipher. 

Fergus  listened  attentively,  read  minutely,  and  then  asked : 

"Is  Doctor  Luttrell  still  at  Cragness  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  leaves  to-day." 

"  Then  to-morrow  we  will  go  over  there,  and  I  shall  try  to  prove  the  correct- 
ness of  a  theory  which  suggests  itself  to  me  in  connection  with  this  story  of  the 
cipher.  Meantime,  allow  me  to  congratulate  myself  upon  the  relationship  newly 
discovered  between  us.  I  had  rather  consider  you  as  my  own  cousin  than  as 
my  uncle's  wife."  He  took  her  hand  and  kissed  her  cheek  as  he  spoke,  and 
Neria  felt  a  strange  thrill  in  this  her  first  recognition  by  her  kindred.  "  Now 
show  me,  if  you  please,  your  father's  journal  and  picture,  with  the  bracelet  and 
goblet  frame,"  continued  Fergus. 


CIPHER.  127 

Neria  laicl  thefn  upon  the  table,  and  the  young  man  took  first  the  picture, 
which  he  examined  minutely. 

"  Yes,  this  is  a  Vaughn,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  there  is  no  mistaking  either 
the  family  likeness  or  the  likeness  to  yourself.  You  show  no  trace  of  your 
Italian  blood,  unless  in  your  golden  hair,  which  is  truly  Venetian  and  like  that  of 
Titian's  women." 

Neria  looked  up  in  surprise,  for  a  compliment  from  the  truthful  and  exact 
Fergus  was  a  circumstance  ;  but  he,  not  noticing  the  look,  was  now  curiously  ex- 
amining the  bracelet  and  goblet  frame. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  here  is  the  name  on  each,  '  F.  V.,'  for  Fiamma  Vascetti. 
And  the  fact  of  Mrs.  Luttrell's  inheriting  this  goblet  is  certainly  proof  of  the 
strongest  in  support  of  your  consanguinity.  Do  you  imagine  the  bracelet  still 
to  possess  its  death-dealing  powers,  or  has  time  destroyed  them  ? " 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  move  the  spring  which  should  project  the  little 
shaft  mentioned  in  father's  description,"  said  Neria.  "  Perhaps  he  or  my  mother 
had  it  destroyed,  and  sacrificed  the  romance  of  the  thing  to  the  safety  of  its 
wearer." 

"  Probably,"  replied  Fergus,  after  some  futile  efforts  to  move  the  emerald  in 
the  head  of  the  serpent,  who  seemed  to  writhe  and  coil  beneath  the  torture  of 
the  attempt.  "  That  would  have  been  the  common-sense  course  to  adopt  with 
regard  to  so  dangerous  a  plaything,  and  I  presume  you  are  correct.  Now,  if 
you  please,  I  will  take  this  journal  to  my  own  room,  and  see  what  I  can  make 
of  it." 

Neria  signified  assent,  and,  when  Fergus  was  gone,  sat  for  some  time  indulg- 
ing the  pleasant  consciousness  that  she  might  safely  rely  upon  his  clear  head 
and  decisive  judgment  for  important  aid  in  her  various  perplexities.  Uncon- 
sciously, she  compared  him  with  Vaughn,  and  found  herself  better  content  with 
the  uncompromising  integrity,  commanding  will,  and  stern  self-control  of  the 
one,  than  with  the  other's  more  suave,  more  polished  and  finely  graduated  char- 
acteristics. 

Francia  did  not  appear  until  teatime,  and  then  scarcely  looked  at  Fergus, 
who  treated  her  politely,  but  with  indifference.  Neria  watched  both  uneasily. 

"  She  loves  him  only  too  well,"  thought  she  ;  "but  he — how  does  he  regard 
her?  and,  even  if  their  love  should  be  mutual,  what  would  Fergus  think  of 
Chloe's  story  ? "  With  these  questions  perplexing  her  mind,  Neria  became 
more  silent  than  her  wont.  Francia  scarcely  spoke  at  all,  and  Fergus  evidently 
only  talked  to  avoid  silence. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  time  could  not  but  pass  heavily,  and  Neria 
had  several  times  sought  a  private  interview  with  her  watch,  hoping  to  find  the 
proper  hour  for  retiring  arrived,  when  the  sound  of  a  carriage  driving  rapidly  up 
the  avenue  was  heard,  and  the  next  moment  it  passed  the  front  of  the  terrace, 
where  the  cousins  were  seated. 

"  Whom  have  we  here,  I  wonder  ?  "  inquired  Fergus,  rather  superciliously, 
as  a  common  covered  wagon  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  and  a  man  in  fish- 
erman's costume  leaped  out. 

"  Some  one  on  business,  probably,"  said  Neria.  "  Will  you  see  him,  Fergus, 
and,  if  I  am  right,  send  him  round  to  the  housekeeper  ?  " 

"  I  shall  suggest,  also,  that  this  house  has  a  less  conspicuous  entrance  than 
the  front  door,"  muttered  Fergus,  slowly  walking  down  the  terrace.  But  he  had 
not  yet  reached  the  steps  when  the  visitor  ran  lightly  up  them,  and  with  a  civil, 
but  not  deferential  bow,  inquired  : 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  to  find  Miss  Vaughn,  if  ye  please,  sir  ?  " 

"  Miss  Vaughn  ?  Do  you  wish  to  speak  with  her  personally  ? "  inquired  Fer- 
gus, in  surprise. 

"Yes.     I've  got  something  for  her." 

"  Oh,  a  parcel.     You  may  leave  it  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  and  I  will  see  to  it." 

"  No  ;  that  won't  do,"  returned  the  man,  in  a  voice  less  rude  than  determined. 
"  I  have  a  word  to  give  along  with  the  parcel,  and  I  must  see  Miss  Vaughn  her- 
self. Is  that  her  down  there  ?" 

Fergus  looked  rather  indignantly  at  the  speaker,  but  found  something  in  his 
bronzed  face  and  manly  bearing  which  so  modified  his  first  impression,  that  he 
only  said,  quietly: 

"  You  are  very  decided  in  your  tone,  my  man  ;  but  I  will  ask  Miss  Vaughn 
if  she  will  see  you." 

''That's  right,"  replied  the  intruder,  briefly  ;  and,  running  down  the  steps, 
he  rolled  up  the  back  curtain  of  his  wagon,  and  began  to  handle  a  heavy  mass 
of  something  lying  in  the  bottom  of  it. 

Fergus  watched  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  went  to  summon  Francia,  who, 
accompanied  by  Neria  and  himself,  approached  the  steps  just  as  the  man,  as- 
cending them  with  some  difficulty  on  account  of  the  bulky  nature  of  his  burden, 
arrived  at  the  top,  and  deposited  it  at  their  feet. 

"  Mr.  Lewis  ! "  exclaimed  Neria,  as  she  recognized  the  young  fisherman,  and 
saw  the  nature  of  his  burden. 


CIPHER.  I2Q 

"What  is  this  ?  who  is  this  man  ?" 

She  stooped  as  she  spoke,  and  examined,  by  the  light  of  the  failing  moon, 
the  features  of  the  body  which,  pinioned,  helpless,  but  convulsed  with  rage  and 
shame,  lay  writhing  at  her  feet. 

"Which  is  Miss  Vaughn  ?"  asked  Lewis,  recovering  his  breath  by  a  painful 
effort,  and,  looking  from  one  lady  to  the  other. 

Francia  stepped  a  little  forward.  The  young  man  bowed  and  removed  his 
hat. 

"This  fellow,  I  believe,  ma'am,"  said  he,  putting  one  foot  lightly  upon  the 
parcel  lying  between  them,  "is  a  friend  of  yours,  or,  perhaps,  you  only  think  he 
is.  I've  brought  him  here  to-night  to  tell  you  what  he  is,  and  leave  it  for  you  to 
say  what  shall  be  done  with  him."  Francia  made  no  reply,  and  he  continued  : 
"  I  come  home  unexpected  last  night,  partly  because  I'd  had  such  luck  with  my 
fishing  I  thought  I  might  as  well  be  married  before  I  got  another  v'y'ge,  and 
partly  because  I  was  sort  of  anxious — just  why  I  couldn't  tell.  I  hadn't  been  in 
town  ten  minutes  when  I  went  to  see  the  girl  I've  been  a  year  expecting  to  mar- 
ry. Her  mother  looked  scared  when  I  asked  for  the  gal.  and  said  she  didn't 
know  where  she  was.  I  told  her  if  she  didn't  she'd  ought  to,  and  I  was  going 
to  look  for  her.  I  asked  round  a  little  at  the  neighbors,  and,  finally,  one  fellow 
told  me,  with  a  sarcy  grin,  that  he  reckoned  I'd  find  her  somewhere  up  the  beach, 
along  with  this  fellow." 

The  fisherman's  foot  emphasized  the  last  word  by  a  slight  motion,  beneath 
which  the  "fellow"  writhed  like  a  wounded  snake. 

"  I  knocked  down  the  man  that  said  it,  of  course,"  continued  Zeb,  quietly. 
"But  I  went  up  the  beach,  and  just  as  I  was  going  to  turn  back  I  heard  Try- 
p'.ieny's  voice  talking  to  some  one.  They  were  sitting  under  the  lee  of  a  big 
rock,  and  I  walked  up  to  the  other  side  and  hearkened  a  bit  to  what  they  were 
saying.  Just  what  it  was  I  ain't  going  to  tell  you,  for  it  wasn't  talk  fit  for.  you,  or 
any  woman  who  thinks  much  of  herself,  to  listen  to  ;  but  among  the  rest  I  found 
he  was  planning  to  take  her  off  to  the  city  when  he  went,  and  she  was  in  a  hurry 
to  go.  That  was  enough  ;  and  I  stepped  round  the  rock,  picked  up  the  mean 
rascal  who  wasn't  even  man  enough  to  hit  back  when  I  struck  him,  and  gave  him 
as  much  of  a  thrashing  as  it  was  in  me  to  give  to  such  a  white-livered  sneak  ;  and 
then  I  tied  him  up  this  fashion,  put  a  cobble-stone  in  his  mouth  to  keep  him 
quiet,  and  left  him  propped  up  against  the  rock  while  I  took  Trypheny  home  to 
her  mother.  I  didn't  say  much,  nor  I  didn't  feel  mad  as  she  thought  I  did.  If 
it  had  been  something  that  could  have  been  got  over,  I  might  have  tried  to  put 
it  into  words,  and,  after  a  while,  be  done  with  it.  But  nothing  that  any  human 
being  could  say  will  ever  undo  the  ten  minutes  I  spent  listening  behind  that  rock, 
nor  can  ever  put  the  girl  I  had  thought  so  much  of  in  the  place  she's  fell  from. 
So  I  said  nothing  to  her  and  to  her  mother,  no  more  than  that  if  she  didn't  know 
where  her  daughter  had  been,  I  did  now,  and  that  I  bid  her  good-by.  once  for  all. 
Then  I  went  and  got  a  horse  and  wagon,  drove  up  the  beach  to  where  my  young 
man  was  waiting  very  patient  for  me,  loaded  him  in,  and  brought  him  here.  Now, 
ma'am,  it's  for  you  to  say  what  I  shall  do  with  him  next." 

"  It  is  not  for  Miss  Vaughn,  it  is  for  me  to  decide  that  question,"  said  Fergus, 
in  a  voice  of  suppressed  rage.  "  Untie  him,  Lewis,  if  you  please." 

"Wait.  It  is  for  me  to  say,  I  think,"  interposed  Neria,  with  quiet  dignity. 
"That  no  violence  shall  be  committed  in  my  presence,  or  within  my  grounds. 
Fergus,  you  will  not  touch  this  man  in  any  manner." 


130  CIPHER. 

Fergus  turned  impatiently  toward  her;  but  when  he  had  met  her  steady  look 
and  fixedly  returned  it,  he  bowed  his  head — that  head  so  seldom  bowed  in  defer- 
ence or  submission  to  any  one — and  murmured, 

" Pardonnez  mot,     Votre  volontt  est  ma  lot." 

Neria  slightly  bent  her  head,  still  more  slightly  smiled  her  thanks,  but  before 
she  could  again  speak,  Francia  laid  a  hand  upon  her  arm. 

"  No  one  has  my  right  to  act  in  this  matter,"  said  she,  in  a  voice  whose  sup- 
pressed emotion  tingled  through  its  every  tone,  and  made  her  low  accents  as 
thrilling  as  the  trumpet  pealing  the  onward  charge  of  an  army.  All  paused  and 
turned  to  look  at  the  slender  girl  who  stood  beneath  the  moon,  transformed  in 
an  instant,  as  it  were,  to  a  stern  Dian  pronouncing  judgment  on  Actaeon,  a 
Boadicea  rehearsing  wrongs  which  no  blood  could  ever  drown.  The  pride  of 
her  father's  house,  the  brooding  sense  of  injury,  the  life-deep  passion  of  her 
mother's  race  shone  together  in  her  eyes,  throned  themselves  upon  her  lips,  as 
presently  she  spoke,  looking  at  Lewis. 

"  The  insult  this  man  has  offered  me,  the  bitter  wrong  he  has  done  to  you, 
are  not  to  be  in  the  lightest  measure  undone  or  satisfied  by  any  insult,  any  pen- 
alty that  could  be'  inflicted  upon  him.  What  you  said  with  regard  to  that  un- 
happy girl,  holds  good  for  him.  Any  words  that  could  be  framed  by  mortal  lips 
would  but  insult  the  feelings  they  could  never  express.  Any  attempt  at  retri- 
bution would,  while  it  gave  us  only  an  angry  disappointment,  comfort  him  with 
the  idea  that  his  crimes  were  expiated.  What  I  will  have  you  do  is  simply  this. 
Remove  his  bonds  and  leave  him  to  slink  away  into  the  night,  alone  and  unno- 
ticed, like  a  faithless  hound  whom  one  scorns  to  beat,  but  turns  from  the  doors, 
as  no  longer  worthy  of  so  much  as  a  hound's  place  in  the  regard  of  man  or 
woman. 

"  Untie  him,  Lewis,  and  let  us  see  that  he  departs.  One  would  be  sure  such 
a  thing  did  not  lurk  about  the  house." 

No  one  offered  reply  or  opposition  to  the  haughty  words  and  gesture.  The 
fisherman  silently  cast  off  the  lashings,  and  removed  the  gag  which  had  held  his 
captive  quiet,  but  ostentatiously  refrained  from  any  roughness  or  insult.  When 
he  had  done  he  stood  aside,  and  beneath  the  scornful  eyes,  the  more  scornful 
silence  of  those  whom  he  had  so  foully  wronged  that  he  could  never  do  them 
right  again,  Rafe  Chilton,  the  exquisite,  the  debonair,  the  curled  darling  of 
many  a  boudoir,  the  successful  rival  of  Fergus  Murray,  the  chosen  husband  of 
Francia  Vaughn,  slowly  rose  from  the  dust  where  he  had  grovelled,  and  stood 
before  them  shaking  with  rage  and  ag.tation.  He  turned  to  Francia. 

"  You've  had  your  say,  my  beauty,"  began  he,  in  a  voice  thick  with  passion, 
"  now  hear  me  !  " 

Fergus  uttered  an  angry  exclamation,  and  would  have  interfered  ;  but  Fran- 
cia with  a  hand  upon  his  arm,  while  her  eyes  never  wandered  from  the  face  of 
the  speaker,  silently  asserted  her  right  to  control  the  moment. 

"  It  is  all  very  natural  that  you  should  feel  a  little  mortified  at  being  jilted 
for  a  common  fisherman's  daughter,  and  that  between  the  disappointment  and 
the  cursed  pride  which  is  a  part  of  you,  that  you  should  be  somewhat  bitter  in 
your  remarks,  but  for  all  that  I  know  you  love  me  still,  and  would  at  a  word  fol- 
low me  over  the  world — " 

"  Francia  !  you  shall  not  restrain  me  ! "  exclaimed  Fergus,  shaking  off  her 
band  indignantly,  but  still  with  her  eyes  upon  the  face  of  the  man  whose  words 
could  no  longer  be  held  of  so  much  value  as  to  be  an  insult,  she  again  grasped 
her  cousin's  arm  and  said  below  her  breath 


CIPHER.  iy 

"  Hush  !  let  him  speak  !  " 

"  Yes,  Francia  Vaughn,"  continued  Chilton,  in  a  tone  of  concentrated  bitter- 
ness, "you  love  me  now  as  you  loved  me  when  you  let  me  steal  you  from  that 
proud  fool  of  a  cousin  who  dared  not  then,  and  dares  not  now  resent  either  my 
deeds  or  my  words,  and  I  want  no  better  revenge  for  this  night's  work  than  the 
chance  of  telling  you  that  I  never  cared  for  you  so  much  as  for  your  father's 
money,  and  that  just  by  your  own  outrages  and  your  own  insolence  you  have 
driven  me  to  a  determination  that  with  all  your  pride  and  all  your  pretended  an- 
ger you  will  not  hear  unmoved.  I  will  marry  the  girl  whom  I  love  better  than 
ever  I  loved  you — a  girl  whose  pride  and  whose  honor  and  whose  very  existence 
begin  and  end  in  my  love ;  and  when  I  give  her  to  the  world  as  my  wife,  if  that 
world  says  that  pretty  Francia  Vaughn  wears  the  willow  wreath  that  Trypheny 
Markham  may  wear  the  bridal  roses,  who  shall  contradict  it  ?  " 

He  finished  and  stood  staring  malignantly  into  her  face,  hoping  to  find  there 
some  trace  of  the  anger  or  chagrin  he  had  hoped  to  arouse.  But  no  marble  was 
ever  colder  or  more  changeless  in  its  scorn  and  pity  than  the  face  of  Frederic 
Vaughn's  daughter,  as  she  looked  and  listened  until  his  own  eyes  wavered  and 
he  half  turned  away.  Then  Francia,  still  with  her  hand  upon  her  cousin's  arm, 
led  him  toward  the  house,  saying  softly  to  herself  in  a  tone  of  bitterest  self-con- 
tempt, 

•'  And  I  fancied  that  I  loved  him  ! " 

Fergus  made  no  reply,  but  as  Neria  entered  the  door  after  Francia,  he  quietly 
drew  back,  and  would  have  returned  to  the  spot  where  Chilton  still  stood,  had 
not  Neria  lingered  beside  him,  saying  quietly, 

"  Remember,  Fergus,  that  you  are  under  the  roof  of  my  husband  and  Fran- 
cia's  father,  and  must  respect  our  wishes." 

"  But  it  is  too  much — too  much  that  you  require,"  muttered  Fergus  hoarsely, 
as  he  half  threw  off  her  grasp. 

"  If  it  is  much,  so  much  the  deeper  the  gratitude  your  forbearance  merits. 
Fergus,  for  P>ancia's  sake  !  " 

"  For  Neria's  sake  ! "  whispered  Fergus,  as  he  suffered  her  to  lead  him  into 
the  house. 

Lewis  slowly  mounting  his  cart  was  already  driving  away,  and  as  the  heavy 
hall  door  closed  upon  him,  and  he  felt  himself  alone,  an  outcast  and  a  social 
outlaw  where  he  had  been  an  honored  guest,  the  bitterness  of  defeat  writhed 
serpentlike  about  the  heart  of  the  libertine,  and  stung  to  its  black  centre. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE     RIDDLE     READ. 

THE  next  morning,  after  a  tete-h-tete  breakfast,  for  Francia  kept  her  room, 
Fergus  and  Neria  drove  to  Cragness. 

Nancy  Brume  opened  the  door  to  them,  and  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Vaughn's  in- 
quiry, said  that  Doctor  Luttrell  had  left  upon  the  previous  evening. 

"  And  though  the  old  place  ain't  the  delightsomest  of  housen  at  the  best," 
pursued  the  worthy  woman,  as  she  opened  the  door  to  the  library  passage,  "  it's 
perked  up  wonderful  since  he  took  his  bUck  favorer.'  fvi~omy  and  his  cat's  eyes 
out'n  it."  * 


132  CIPHER. 

In  the  library,  with  closed  doors,  and  with  the  solemn  mystery  ever  brooding 
more  or  less  tangibly  over  the  house  and  its  inmates,  boldly  confronting  and  as 
it  were  daring  her  to  its  solution,  Neria  sank  into  the  arm-chair  of  the  bay  win- 
dow, her  sensitive  organization  succumbing,  even  while  her  spirit  rose  to  the 
crisis  which  instinctively  she  felt  approaching. 

Before  her  dazed  eyes  the  dim  room  seemed  to  reel  and  shimmer  like  objects 
seen  through  mirage  ;  the  black  books  crowding  the  shelves  on  every  side  seemed 
gathering  momentum  for  a  forward  plunge,  which  should  burv  the  intruders  be- 
neath an  avalanche  of  dead  men's  thoughts  and  fancies — thoughts  and  fancies 
which,  instead  of  peacefully  perishing  with  the  brains  where  they  were  bred,  had 
been  condemned  to  some  such  life-in-death  as  befell  the  maiden  chilled  to  sleep 
for  a  hundred  years,  in  company  with  the  bear,  the  crocodile  and  the  serpent. 
Abovt  the  fireplace  the  knight  in  his  golden  armor  seemed  stirring  in  his  sad- 
dle, and  fixing,  through  his  visor,  eyes  of  gloomy  menace  upon  the  irreverent  de- 
scendants of  his  house  who  dared  attempt  to  pluck  from  his  hand  the  secret  of 
a  lifetime.  From  the  dusty  corner,  where  stood  the  organ,  shadowy  forms 
seemed  to  wave  hands  of  ominous  warning,  to  sigh  and  moan  in  a  voiceless 
lamentation  that  their  realm  was  to  be  invaded,  their  unnamed  charge  to  be 
snatched  from  their  guardianship. 

Doubt,  mystery  and  menace  embodied  themselves  on  every  hand,  expressed 
themselves  in  every  form  the  place  contained,  except  in  the  figure  of  the  man 
who  stood  upright  in  their  midst,  strong,  hard,  unimpressible,  and  regnant. 

Upon  his  thoughtful  face  Neria's  eyes  at  last  rested,  and  there  found  support 
and  reliance.  Fergus  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  This  secret,  Neria,"  said  he,  slowly,  "  is  one  that  must  now  be  known.  If 
Reginald  Vaughn  had  been  a  man  of  decision  and  character  he  would  never 
have  left  it  for  us  to  settle  the  quarrel  between  himself  and  his  conscience, 
which  seems  to  have  tormented  him  into  his  grave.  Certainly  the  absurd  com- 
promise of  half  concealing  and  half  revealing  it  to  Gillies,  a  perfect  stranger  to 
him  and  to  the  family,  could  have  given  him  little  comfort  in  his  perplexity,  and 
was  the  occasion  of  infinite  annoyance  to  the  unfortunate  monomaniac,  upon 
whose  shoulders  he,  in  dying,  foisted  it.  He  should  either  have  carried  it  to  his 
grave  or  revealed  it  at  once." 

"  Do  not  judge  harshly  of  the  dead,  Fergus,"  said  Neria,  softly. 

"  Every  man,  dead  or  living,  must  consent  to  be  judged  by  his  life,  and  those 
of  Reginald  Vaughn  and.  his  legatee  seem  to  me  to  have  been  miserable  fail- 
ures," replied  Fergus,  coldly.  "Vaughn,  as  I  have  said,  showed  a  pitiable 
weakness  in  neglecting  to  either  keep  or  tell  his  secret ;  Gillies,  an  unpardona- 
ble want  of  determination  in  neglecting  to  unravel  it — " 

"  He  could  not,  interposed  Neria,  "and  his  anxiety  to  conquer  the  impossi- 
bility hurried  him  to  his  grave." 

"  Impossibility  is  merely  an  arbitrary  sign  representing  an  unknown  quanti- 
ty," returned  Fereus,  with  a  slight  smile.  "  I  do  not  think  it  need  be  used  in 
this  instance  at  all.  I  already  have  a  theory  upon  the  subject,  and  shall  be 
somewhat  surprised  if  we  do  not,  by  its  aid,  spell  out  this  wonderful  secret  before 
we  leave  the  room. 

"  We  already  know,  through  the  key  contained  in  your  father's  note  book, 
that  the  words  Edaolu  oe  Oludluv  may  be  translated  Father  of  Heralds,  and 
it  is  easy  to  infer  that  this  sentence,  meaningless  in  itself,  contains  a  reference 
to  something  more  important." 

"  The  oftlest  English  herald  of  note  is  Guillim,  and  in  fact  I  have  seen  him 


CIPHER.  133 

referred  to  by  this  very  title  of  Father  of  Heralds.  Now,  do  you  know,  Neria, 
of  a  copy  of  his  work  in  this  library  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Neria,  doubtfully,  "  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  heard  of  him." 

"  Then  let  us  look,"  returned  her  cousin  briefly,  and  immediately  commenced 
the  scare''.,  while  Neria  forgot  other  occupation  in  watching  his  energetic  move- 
ments and  the  rare  emotion  betrayed  by  his  glittering  eyes  and  flushed  cheek. 
An  hour  passed  thus,  and  an  impatient  frown  was  beginning  to  darken  Fergus's 
face,  when  from  the  depths  of  one  of  the  sunken  book-cases  he  drew  a  black, 
moth-eaten  quarto  volume,  evidently  of  great  age.  Opening  at  the  title  page, 
the  young  man  inhaled  his  breath  with  a  quick  sound  of  joyful  surprise,  exclaim- 
ing, "  The  very  thing !  Old  Guillim  himself,  venerable  Father  of  Heralds. 
Now  let  us  see." 

He  seated  himself,  the  book  upon  his  knee,  and  Neria  looked  anxiously  over 
his  shoulder.  With  deliberate  hand  Fergus  began  to  turn  the  leaves  one  by 
one,  searching  for  some  loose  paper  laid  between  them,  but  the  end  of  the  voV 
ume  was  reached  in  this  tedious  manner,  with  no  result.  Blank  leaves  at  the  be- 
ginning and  end  there  were  none,  and  Fergus  remained  staring  a  moment  at  the 
quaint  colophon  in  a  sort  of  angry  disappointment  at  the  result  of  his  well-laid 
calculations. 

"  Perhaps  there  is  a  false  cover,"  suggested  Neria,  quietly. 

"  Of  course  not.  The  outside  is  leather,"  replied  Fergus,  somewhat  impa- 
tiently closing  the  book.  "And  yet,"  continued  he,  examining  it  more  minute- 
ly, "  I  don't  know  but  you  may  be  right,  Neria.  This  outside  leather  slips  a  lit- 
tle— yes,  I  think  it  has  been  placed  over  the  original  cover  and  glued  down  upon 
the  inside.  Let  us  see." 

A  sharp  penknife  soon  established  the  correctness  of  this  theory,  and  after 
a  breathless  moment  of  expectation  Fergus  drew  from  between  the  two  covers  a 
sheet  of  thin  paper,  yellow  with  age  and  covered  with  the  crabbed  and  peculiar 
manuscript  of  Reginald  Vaughn.  It  was  written  in  cipher,  but  with  the  key  be- 
fore them  the  cousins  readily  translated  it  to  this  effect : 

"  The  sins  of  the  fathers  shall  be  visited  upon  the  children,"  says  the  Book  whence 
Christendom  receives  its  law.  The  Book  is  to  me  no  more  than  the  earliest  historical  rec- 
ord of  mankind ;  but  in  this  axiom  is  closed  a  great  law  of  human  .nature.  The  destiny  of 
my  house  has  pursued  and  overtaken  me  unawares,  and  I  know  not  how  to  deal  with  it, 
other  than  by  leaving  it  to  its  own  fulfilment. 

Many  years  ago  the  weakness  of  my  own  and  another's  nature,  crushed  beneath  my 
father's  iron  prejudices,  led  to  certain  results ;  chief  of  which  was  the  birth  of  an  unfortu- 
nate child,  whose  mother  died  in  the  same  moment,  whose  father  never  will,  never  can 
recognize  him  as  his  own.  Nor  yet  has  he  been  utterly  abandoned. 

It  was  a  heavy  bribe  from  me  which  induced  the  Scotchman  Gillies  to  select  from 
among  the  inmates  of  the  asylum,  where  I  had  placed  him,  the  child  whom  he  as  little 
knew  to  be  my  son,  as  the  child  of  his  own  lost  sister,  and  consequently  his  own  nephew. 
Could  I  have  done  better  for  the  miserable  little  creature  than  to  place  him  under  guardi- 
anship of  his  maternal  uncle  ?  As  he  grew  to  man's  estate  I  found  him  amply  able  to 
care  for  himself,  and  consequently  dropped  from  my  fingers  the  invisible  thread  which  had 
so  far  bound  his  life  to  mine.  Now  I  am  about  to  resume  it,  and  under  peculiar  circum- 
stances. 

My  earliest  recollections  are  of  the  stormy  scenes  constantly  occurring  between  my  two 
elder  brothers,  or  between  one  or  both  of  them,  and  my  father,  and  I  still  remember  the  re- 
lief I  experienced  when  after  a  violent  quarrel,  in  which  all  three  had  taken  part,  it  was 
announced  that  Alfred,  the  younger,  had  left  home,  as  he  professed,  forever.  Not  that  he 
was  to  me  the  most  disagreeable  of  my  two  brothers,  for  his  storms  and  freaks  of  rage 


I34  CIPHER. 

were  as  temporal y  as  violent,  while  Egbert's  temper  was  of  the  sullen  and  vindictive  turn 
far  more  dangerous  as  well  as  unpleasant  to  encounter. 

I  was,  at  this  period,  about  twelve  years  old  and,  when  soon  after  Alfred's  departure, 
Egbert  married  and  settled  at  Bonniemeer,  I  became  my  father's  companion  and  friend. 
This  was  the  happiest  period  of  my  own  life  ;  and,  as  I  think,  of  his  also.  Our  amuse- 
ments,  our  studies,  our  interests  were  identical ;  he  treated  me  as  an  equal,  even  while  he 
adapted  himself  to  my  youth  and  inexperience,  and,  within  certain  limits,  I  was  allowed 
to  treat  him  with  a  familiarity  upon  which  his  elder  sons  had  never  presumed. 

Upon  certain  points,  however,  he  was  inflexible,  and  I,  cowardly  and  secretive  by  na- 
ture, never  dreamed  of  opposing  him  openly,  however  I  might  secretly  disobey  him.  Tho 
most  positive  of  these  restrictions  was  one  never  distinctly  expressed,  but  most  distinctly 
understood,  debarring  me,  as  I  grew  to  manhood,  from  seeking  the  society  of  the  other 
sex.  Lazarus  Graves  was  our  only  attendant,  and  no  woman's  face  ever  brightened  the 
dim  chambers  of  our  home.  My  father  never  visited,  even  at  Bonniemeer  ;  and  I  should 
as  soon  have  ventured  upon  the  grossest  insult  toward  him,  as  to  have  noticed  by  more 
than  a  distant  salutation  the  pretty  daughters  and  wives  of  the  fishermen  who  occasionally 
met  us  in  our  walks  or  rides.  But  strong  passions  and  weak  principles  are  the  distinc- 
tive brand  of  the  Vaughn  character  from  the  earliest  record,  as  the  story  of  Marion  Gillies 
and  her  luckless  boy  would  prove  were  it  here  set  down,  as  it  most  certainly  will  not  be. 

Absorbed  in  my  own  secret  and  the  precautions  with  which  I  surrounded  it,  I  hardly 
noticed  my  father's  failing  health  and  increasing  gloom.  He  preferred  to  be  much  alone, 
and  when  in  my  company  fell  often  into  profound  reverie,  from  which  he  aroused  himself 
with  a  scrutinizing  glance  at  me  that  more  than  once  sent  the  guilty  blood  to  my  heart 
with  the  conviction  that  I  was  discovered.  Now,  I  do  not  doubt  that  my  father  was  con- 
sidering the  safety  of  intrusting  me  with  a  mystery  which  weighed  even  more  heavily 
upon  his  mind  than  the  disease  already  leading  him  to  the  grave. 

He  died,  and  in  his  last  moments  struggled  piteously  to  speak  to  me.  I  do  not  doubt 
it  was  the  secret,  the  shameful  secret  which  even  then  tortured  him  with  its  demand  for 
an  utterance  denied  to  it  by  death.  I  could  not  guess  at  his  Nemesis,  nor  did  I  care  to 
do  so,  for  my  own  had  overtaken  me.  Marion  had  died  the  day  before. 

I  laid  my  father  in  the  ground  and  returned  to  Cragness,  the  lonely,  loveless  man  I 
have  remained  ever  since.  The  years  since  then  are  so  nearly  a  blank  that  I  pass  them 
over  in  silence  until  a  day,  now  years  ago,  when,  in  some  curious  examination  of  the 
carved  woodwork  above  the  fireplace  of  the  library  at  Cragness,  I  hit  accidentally  upon  a 
secret  spring,  distant  six  inches  in  a  right  line  from  the  spear-head  of  the  knight  in  herald- 
ic device  there  blazoned.  Within  the  crypt,  disclosed  by  the  movement  of  this  spring, 
I  found  the  secret  which,  having  driven  my  father  to  his  grave,  then  turned  back  to  fasten 
upon  me,  and  will,  as  I  am  certain,  never  release  me  until  I  lie  beside  him.  How  to  dis- 
pose of  it  is  to  me  a  question  as  unsettled  as  my  own  existence  beyond  the  grave  ;  and 
after  tormenting  myself  with  it  for  years  I  have  at  last  resolved  to  make  this  plain  state- 
ment of  my  own  personal  interest  in  the  affair,  to  hide  the  statement  as  securely  as  possi- 
ble, and  then  to  fly  from  this  accursed  house  forever.  Once  abroad  I  shall  die  to  the 
world,  soon,  as  I  doubt  not,  to  earth  also,  and  in  my  legal  death  I  shall  bequeath  this 
place,  the  secret,  and  the  knowledge  of  his  own,  his  mother's,  and  his  father's  shame,  to  my 
son,  John  Gillies.  I  shall  place  a  blind  clue  in  his  hand  at  starting,  and  after  that  I  leave 
him  to  Destiny,  and  to  the  slow  and  terrible  justice  of  Destiny,  which  will  sooner  or  later 
ordain  that  through  the  wrong  done  by  me  to  him  and  his,  the  wrong  done  by  another  to 
the  proud  name  of  Vaughn  shall  be  exposed. 

The  manuscript  closed  thus  abruptly ;  and,  at  the  last  word,  Fergus  and  Ne- 
ria,  raising  their  eyes  to  each  other's  face,  withdrew  them  suddenly,  while  the 
frown  upon  his  brow,  the  burning  blush  on  her's,  already  verified  Reginald 
Vaughn's  bitter  application  of  the  curse  ordaining  that  the  shame  and  suffering 
of  the  father's  sin  shall  be  surely  visited  upon  the  innocent  children  so  long  as 
the  world  endures. 


CIPHER.  135 

Then,  without  a  word,  Fergus  folded  the  yellow  sheets  together,  and  hiding 
them  in  a  desk  upon  the  table,  went  to  the  fireplace,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
minutely  examining  the  carved  scroll-work  surrounding,  like  a  frame,  the  dim 
blazonry  of  the  shield.  From  its  midst  the  golden  horseman  looked  sullenly 
through  his  closed  visor  at  his  opponent ;  and,  to  Neria's  strained  fancy,  the 
lance  in  his  grasp  seemed  quivering  with  the  rage  of  an  approaching  onset. 

"  Six  inches  in  a  right  line  from  the  spear  point,"  muttered  Fergus,  measur- 
ing the  distance  with  quiet  exactitude.  "And  this,"  pursued  he,  after  an  in- 
stant, as  he  pressed  his  finger  upon  a  slight  projection  half  hidden  beneath  a  rib- 
like  scroll-1-''  this  must  be  the  spring." 

As  he  spoke,  (he  spring  yielded  to  the  pressure,  and,  with  noiseless  motion, 
the  shield,  with  its  baffled  knight,  its  solemn  crest  and  haughty  motto,  slid  away, 
revealing  a  small  closet  or  crypt  constructed  in  the  thickness  of  the  massive 
chimney.  From  its  interior  Fergus  silently  took  a  folded  parchment  and  an  old- 
fashioned  pistol,  primed  and  loaded. 

"  These  are  all,"  said  he,  returning  to  the  table,  where  Neria  sat  watching  his 
movements  with  dilated  eyes  and  pallid  cheeks.  The  panel,  released  from  the 
pressure  of  the  spring,  slid  noiselessly  back  to  its  former  position,  and  from  its 
face  the  effigy  of  the  baffled  and  impotent  guardian  of  old  Egbert  Vaughn's  se- 
cret, looked  down  with  ghastly  rage  upon  its  audacious  heirs. 

Beneath  the  lock  of  the  pistol  was  closed  a  strip  of  paper  with  these  words' 
written  upon  it : 

If  one  of  my  sons  shall  discover  the  secret  place  where  is  hidden  this  pistol  and  the 
confession  of  his  father's  follies  and  crimes,  I  counsel  him  to  lay  the  latter  upon  the  fire, 
and  to  discharge  the  first  into  his  own  head.  So  best  shall  he  shield  the  memory  of  his 
ancestors,  and  spare  himself  their  inheritance. 

These  ominous  words  read  Fergus ;  and  withholding  them  from  Neria's  out- 
stretched hand,  said,  softly  : 

"  No,  my  cousin.  It  was  not  meant  for  us,  and  will  only  shock  you.  Let  us 
look  at  the  paichment." 

Laying  the  parchment  upon  the  table,  Fergus  carefully  laid  open  its  stift 
and  yellow  folds,  and  seated  himself  beside  his  cousin,  that  they  might  together 
learn  the  mystery  which  for  a  century  had  hung  over  the  fortunes  of  their  house, 
and  for  more  than  one  of  its  members  had  mingled  its  dusky  shadows  with  those 
of  the  grave  itself.  A  gleam  of  sunshine,  piercing  of  a  sudden  the  stormy  sky, 
flashed  across  Neria's  pallid  face  and  wildly  lighted  her  sombre  eyes,  glanced 
over  the  bent  head  and  dusky  face  of  her  cousin,  and  touched,  as  with  the  finger 
of  Fate,  the  secret  lying  before  them.  Then,  flickering  upward,  it  lighted  to  a 
flame  the  golden  blazonry  upon  the  wall,  lingered  yet  a  moment  upon  the  closed 
visor  of  the  knight,  and  was  gone,  leaving  a  darkness  and  chill  behind  which 
struck  upon  Neria's  sensitive  nerves  like  a  breath  from  the  tomb,  whence,  as  it 
seemed  to  her,  they  were  about  to  pluck  its  sacred  mysteries. 

"  O  Fergus,"  whispered  she.  pressing  closer  to  his  side,  "  let  us  leave  it  as 
we  find  it.  It  is  not  good  to  meddle  with  the  secrets  of  the  dead.  Put  this  pa- 
per back,  leave  it  for  another  to  find,  and  let  us  begone.  This  place  is  killing 
me." 

"  Hush,  child.  Do  not  yield  to  womanish  fancies  now,  when  all  is  accom- 
plished. Give  up  the  secret  when  it  is  within  our  grasp  ?  What  folly !  Re- 
member, Neria,  we  are  performing  a  solemn  duty." 

He  placed  his  arm  about  her  as  he  spoke,  and  Neria  sheltered  within  its  fold 
as  quietly  as  oa  her  mother's  breast.  So  together  they  read : 


1.36  CIPHER. 

When  I,  Egbert  Vaughn,  was  but  a  boy,  I  loved  my  Cousin  Maud,  and  she,  in  the 
pride  of  wit  and  beauty,  sneered  at  my  passion.  I  left  her  with  the  silent  oath  that  we 
would  yet  change  places,  and  that  it  should  be  my  turn  some  day  to  triumph  and  hers  to 
v  plead. 

Three  years  after,  when  I  returned  from  my  distant  voyage,  I  forgot  my  oath  in  won- 
der at  her  beauty  and  the  sweetness  of  her  welcome.  I  loved  her  more  than  I  had  ever 
done,  and  she  confessed  to  an  equal  passion.  I  pleaded  for  an  immediate  marriage,  and 
she  and  her  cunning  mother  opposed  me  only  so  much  as  to  excite  my  ardor  and  give 
impetus  to  my  wishes. 

We  married ;  and  I  waked  from  my  fool's  elysium  to  find  myself  the  dupe  of  an  in- 
famous plot. 

My  cousin,  true  to  the  violent  passions,  the  rampant  pride  and  easy  principles  of  her 
race,  had  chosen  to  secretly  marry,  during  my  absence,  a  fellow  so  low,  so  debased,  so  dis- 
graceful in  every  manner  that  even  she  dared  not  acknowledge  him  before  the  world,  co- 
even  to  her  own  family.  He  was  a  sailor — a  common  foremast  hand — and  some  weeks 
after  their  marriage,  had  been  induced,  during  a  drunken  frolic,  to  ship  with  some  com- 
rades on  board  a  whaler  just  ready  for  sea,  and  when  he  recovered  his  senses  found  him- 
self out  of  sight  of  land,  with  a  three-years'  voyage  before  him. 

This  was  only  a  month  previous  to  my  return,  and  Maud  Vaughn,  remembering  that 
her  marriage  was  without  witness  or  proof,  and  under  a  feigned  name,  and,  moreover, 
already  weary  of  her  folly,  at  once  resolved  to  forget  the  secret  chain  binding  her  to  it, 
secure  that,  even  in  case  of  her  husband's  return,  he  would  never  dare  to  claim  her  with- 
out proof  or  even  probability  to  adduce  in  support  of  a  pretension  which  she  should  in- 
dignantly deny. 

In  the  first  moment  of  my  return  she  spread  her  lures,  and  baited  her  cunning  snare 
with  the  smiles  and  sighs,  the  blushes  and  half-uttered  regrets  for  former  misconduct, 
which  might  have  led  a  sounder  judgment,  a  colder  heart  captive.  She  had  not  intended 
to  reveal  the  secret  even  when  her  object  was  effected;  but,  cunning  and  resolute  though 
she  was,  she  had  found  in  me  her  master,  and  I  forced  the  confession  from  her  lips,  word 
by  word,  without  her  finding  the  power  to  resist. 

When  she  had  done,  she  cast  herself  at  my  feet  and  implored  me  to  shield  her,  to  aid 
her  in  ridding  herself  of  her  disgraceful  connection,  for  the  sake  of  the  love  1  had  borne 
her,  for  the  sake  of  the  life  she  would  lead  in  the  future — for  the  sake  of  her  unborn  child. 
I  laughed  in  her  face. 

Then  she  stood  up,  her  eyes  all  ablaze  with  the  haughty  fire  of  her  blood,  and  bade  me, 
if  I  dared,  to  tarnish  the  name  we  both  were  proud  to  bear,  to  cast  dishonor  on  the  time- 
honored  race  whence  we  both  were  sprung.  When  she  was  willing  to  lay  a  woman's  na- 
ture in  the  dust,  to  deliberately  break  the  laws  of  God  and  man  rather  than  live  degraded 
in  her  father's  house,  where  the  proofless  marriage  would  never  be  credited,  was  I,  she 
said,  was  I — a  man — to  be  less  brave,  less  daring  in  shielding  the  honor  of  our  house  ? 

"O  noble  house  !"  sneered  I,  "as  all  its  daughters  are  'satis  reproche?  so  should  its 
sons  show  themselves  '  sans  peur."1  I  do  not  wonder,  fair  cousin,  that  you  exhort  me  to  be 
brave." 

I  left  her  without  any  promise  as  to  the  future ;  and,  day  by  day,  and  week  by  week, 
and  month  by  month,  I  watched  the  gnawing  terror  consuming  her  heart  as  I  dallied  with 
the  secret,  half-revealing  it  to  some  chance  visitor,  or  pretending  solemn  confidences  with 
her  own  relatives,  whom  I  encouraged  to  frequent  the  house.  Many  a  time,  as,  after  a 
stern  and  warning  look  at  her,  I  have  beckoned  her  grey-haired  father  or  her  fiery  brother 
from  the  room,  have  I  seen  her  eyes  darken,  her  lips  blanch  with  the  anguish  she  could 
not  quite  conceal.  I  never  went  farther.  I  did  not  wish  to  spoil  my  own  sport ;  but 
chose  rather,  at  times,  to  quiet  the  sufferer  by  periods  of  cool  kindness,  or  even  indiffer- 
ence. Then,  when  a  feeling  of  security  had  nursed  her  to  a  little  strength,  a  new  blow 
fell,  waking  in  an  instant  all  the  old  terrors. 

Was  this  amusement  a  little  cruel  ?  Does  it  remind  one  of  the  Inquisition  or  its  arche- 
type and  patron  down  below  ?  Perhaps ;  but  remember  that  this  woman  had  deliberately 


CIPHER.  13;' 

plotted  to  injure  me  as  never  man  was  injured  yet  and  forgave  the  injury.  I  had  loved 
her  with  all  the  trust  and  strength  of  my  ardent  nature  ;  and  now  I  hatecl  her ;  yes,  hated 
her  with  the  rancor  of  a  love  poisoned  at  its  spring,  and  I  took  my  revenge  after  my  own 
fashion. 

Her  child  was  born.  The  old  serpent,  her  mother,  her  only  confidante,  had  not  yet 
discovered  that  I  made  a  third  in  the  pleasant  little  family  secret,  and  so  came  to  me  the 
day  after  the  child's  birth  with  her  honeyed  congratulations,  and  an  inquiry  if  my  son 
should  be  christened  by  my  own  name. 

"  Give  the  boy  his  father's  name  by  all  means,  my  dear  madam,"  said  I,  looking  her 
in  the  eye  until  her  cheeks  grew  white  beneath  her  rouge,  and  her  false  mouth  quivered 
with  rage  and  fear.  But  she  mastered  herself  as  only  so  well-drilled  a  votary  of  Satan 
could  have  done,  and,  looking  back  my  look,  said,  defiantly: 

"Certainly;  we  will  name  him  Egbert." 

"  Ah  !  I  do  not  wish  to  be  inquisitive  ;  but  it  is  a  curious  coincidence  if  it  is  so,"  said  I. 

She  did  not  ask  what  I  meant,  but  left  the  room  and  the  house.  They  named  the  boy 
Egbert — and  I  allowed  it ;  for  I  had  resolved  to  suffer  him  to  grow  to  manhood  before  I 
should  reveal  his  true  birth,  and  turn  him,  as  an  impostor,  from  my  doors.  Through  the 
son,  too,  lay  a  new  road  to  the  mother's  heart,  a  new  weapon  in  the  life-long  punishment  I 
had  ordained  for  her. 

It  was  about  a  year  after  this  that  a  returning  whaler  brought  tidings  that  the  ship  on 
which  my  cousin's  husband  had  embarked  was  lost  at  sea,  with  all  hands  on  board. 

This  news  I  hastened  to  communicate  to  the  widow,  adding  the  suggestion  that,  as  she 
was  now  free,  she  might  marry  whom  she  would,  and  that  I  advised  her  to  make  the  whole 
story  public  at  once,  to  withdraw  from  my  protection,  and  make  arrangements  for  a  more 
reputable  life. 

I  could  have  pitied  her  then,  if  pity  had  not  died  out  of  my  heart  in  the  first  year  of 
our  quasi-marriage.  She  implored  me  not  to  cast  her  off,  not  to  compel  her  to  reveal  her 
early  folly  and  subsequent  crime.  She  confessed,  with  sobs  and  groans,  her  sins  toward 
me  ;  but  she  protested  that,  through  all  my  harshness,  she  had  learned  to  love  me,  and 
that  now  no  new  misery  could  equal  the  parting  from  me,  and  she  ended  by  a  passionate 
petition  that  I  should  privately  marry  her  again,  and,  accepting  her  for  the  future  such  as 
she  would  make  it,  should  forget  the  past  and  suffer  her  to  forget  it. 

I  have  never,  even  among  the  beautiful  daughters  of  my  race,  seen  a  woman  so  gor- 
geously beautiful  as  Maud  Vaughn  ;  I  have  never  heard  so  sweet  a  voice,  never  felt  the 
witchery  of  so  seductive  a  manner,  so  tender  or  so  winning  an  appeal.  As  I  stood  and 
looked  at  her,  kneeling  at  my  feet,  every  nerve  in  her  graceful  body  trembling  with  the 
passion  of  the  entreaty  she  had  made,  I  felt  the  hard  determination  which  had  cased  my 
heart  tremble  and  crumble  beneath  the  magic  of  her  presence.  The  old  love  rose  up  like 
a  mighty  sea,  and  swept  over  all  that  had  come  between,  burying  it  fathoms  deep.  Al- 
ready I  stooped  to  gather  her  to  my  heart,  when  the  door  opened  and  the  old  mother 
entered  with  the  child  in  her  arms  ;  the  child  whom  they  had  impudently  named  by  my 
name  and  imposed  upon  my  bounty. 

The  sight  sent  back  that  mighty  flood  of  love  and  forgiveness  with  as  mighty  an  ebb. 
I  spurned  the  woman  at  my  feet  with  such  words  as  I  never  before  had  spoken  to  her.  I 
fiercely  bade  the  wrinkled  hypocrite  at  her  side  begone,  and  never  darken  my  doors  again. 
I  snatched  the  screaming  child  from  her  arms  and  would  have  tossed  it  through  the  win- 
dow to  the  roaring  waves  below  ;  but  its  mother  caught  it  from  my  arms,  and  stood  before 
me,  defiant  and  beautiful  as  a  Judith,  braving  me  to  my  cruel  worst. 

I  rushed  from  the  house  and  wandered  the  whole  night  upon  the  beach.  At  daylight 
my  determination  was  reached.  I  would  put  all  future  relentings  out  of  my  own  power, 
destroy  at  a  blow  all  hope  for  the  future  in  the  heart  of  my  temptress,  and  in  so  doing 
prepare  a  new  torment  for  her  in  revenge  for  the  weakness  into  which  she  had  so  nearly 
surprised  me. 

I  married  another  woman,  a  woman  who  supposed  me  already  married,  and  who  con- 
sidered the  ceremony  proposed  by  me  as  an  idle  farce  to  quiet  her  own  conscience. 


138  CIPHER. 

It  was  no  innocent  victim  whom  I  thus  deceived,  but  a  woman  as  wily,  as  full  of  pas- 
sion,  and  as  lax  in  moral  strength  as  if  she  had  been  born  twin  sister  of  my  Cousin  Maud, 
instead  of  merely  being  her  dressing-maid. 

I  do  not  care  to  linger  upon  this  part  of  my  story,  or  to  give  it  in  detail.  It  is  not 
pleasant  to  remember  the  white  face  and  steadfast  eyes  with  which  Maud  listened  to  my 
boast  of  what  I  had  done,  or  to  remember  the  year  that  followed.  If  when  I  saw  the 
only  woman  I  had  ever  loved  slowly  dying  of  a  broken  heart  and  a.  bruised  spirit,  I  found 
my  own  heart  as  slowly  crushed  beneath  the  weight  of  that  dying  woman's  curse,  my  own 
spirit  writhing  and  tortured  beneath  the  burden  of  its  almost  accomplished  revenge — if 
these  things  were,  I  will  not  tell  of  them,  I  will  not  satisfy  the  Nemesis  which  has  over- 
taken me,  by  an  admission  that  her  work  is  accomplished.  As  I  have  lived,  so  will  I  die. 

When  I  found  that  my  real  wife,  still  unconscious  of  her  rights,  was  likely  to  become 
a  mother,  I  sent  her  away,  and  after  a  time  followed  with  the  lady  whom  all  the  world  but 
herself,,  myself  and  the  wicked  old  mother  supposed  to  be  my  wife.  Returning  to  Crag- 
ness  after  some  months,  we  were  accompanied  by  an  infant,  who  was  introduced  to  the 
world  as  our  second  son,  Alfred  by  name. 

The  lady's-maid  had  returned  to  England,  where  some  years  after  she  died,  never  hav- 
ing suspected  for  a  moment  that  her  generous  protector  was  in  fact  her  lawful  husband,  or 
that  the  brat  whom  she  believed  dead,  was  actually  the  legitimate  heir  of  his  father's  name 
and  property. 

In  less  than  a  year  after  this  my  Cousin  Maud  died.  Of  this  occurrence,  or  of  my  own 
feelings  in  connection  with  it,  I  will  say  nothing. 

Years  after  I  married  again,  my  lady's-maid  being  as  I  supposed  dead,  although  I  have 
since  found  reason  to  doubt  whether  the  date  of  the  marriage  or  the  death  should  be 
placed  first.  Nor  did  I  particularly  care,  being  in  those  days  somewhat  reckless,  and  more 
than  somewhat  contemptuous  of  life,  and  law,  and  my  fellow-creatures,  especially  of  women. 

My  son  Reginald's  mother  was  a  pretty  and  innocent  girl  whom  I  loved  as  I  did  my 
dog,  my  horse,  my  tame  doe.  She  loved  me,  too,  as  far  as  she  was  able,  and  respected 
me  fearfully.  We  were  happy  together,  and  I  was  sincerely  sorry  when  she  died  in  child- 
birth. 

Egbert  and  Alfred  Vaughn  as  they  grew  up  displayed  the  honest  antagonism  to  be  ex- 
pected from  their  birth  and  antecedents.  They  hated  each  other  cordially,  and  I  hated 
both,  the  one  for  his  father's  sake,  the  other  for  his  mother's.  On  my  youngest  child  I 
centred  such  affections  as  I  yet  had  to  offer,  and  in  my  own  heart  recognized  him  as  my 
only  true  son,  and  heir  of  such  property  as  I  felt  at  liberty  to  bestow  upon  any  one  ;  the 
estate  of  Bonniemeer,  derived,  from  my  Cousin  Maud,  I  had  always  destined  to  Egbert 
her  only  child. 

With  these  arrangements  in  my  mind,  it  was  no  cause  of  regret  to  me  when  my  son 
Alfred  announced  his  intention  of  leaving  home  forever,  in  consequence  of  the  constant 
quarrels  between  himself  and  Egbert,  and  the  harshness  and  injustice  which  he  com- 
plained of  having  always  received  from  me.  I  presented  him  with  a  thousand  dollars,  my 
malediction,  and  a  plain  warning  to  let  me  see  or  hear  of  him  no  more.  He  sailed  for  Eu- 
rope, and  was  a  few  years  after  reported  dead.  I  have  since  learned  through  a  reliable  but 
secret  source,  that  this  report  was  circulated  by  himself  in  a  childish  desire  to  annoy  me, 
and  to  cut  off  all  possible  attempt  at  reconciliation  on  the  part  of  his  friends  at  home. 

He  little  knew  the  utter  indifference  to  his  life  or  death  which  possessed  my  mind.  I 
accepted  the  contradiction  without  taking  the  trouble  to  make  it  public,  and  for  many 
years  as  completely  set  aside  the  memory  of  my  son  Alfred  as  I  did  that  of  the  vicious 
and  disgusting  woman  his  mother. 

But  now  arrives  the  time  when  failing  Nature  warns  me  to  be  done  with  the  concerns 
of  earth  and  resign  myself  to  the  great  oblivion  ;  and  now  I  prepare  the  Parthian  bolt, 
which  even  from  my  grave  shall  teach  and  punish,  through  their  descendants,  those  who 
half  a  century  ago  stung  and  warped  to  boundless  evil  a  nature  formed  by  God  for  bound- 
less good.  The  son  of  Richard  Grant  and  Maud  his  wife,  born  and  bred  as  the  eldest 
son  of  the  house  of  Vaughn,  and  heir  to  its  wealth  and  honors,  now  in  middle  life,  with  all 


CIPHER.  139 

the  pride,  the  prejudice,  the  luxury  of  his  assumed  station  fastened  irrevocably  upon  him, 
is  now  to  learn,  and  to  learn  in  face  of  the  whole  world,  his  own  ignoble  parentage,  his 
mother's  weak  and  criminal  subterfuge,  and  the  relentless  hate  and  vengeance  that  even 
in  his  cradle  prepared  this  grand  finale  to  the  drama  in  which  he  has  played  so  important 
although  unconscious  a  part. 

Before  m;  death  I  shall  confide  this  paper  to  my  son  Reginald  Vaughn,  with  peremp- 
tory orders  to  convey  it  at  once  to  my  solicitors,  instructing  them  to  take  immediate  steps 
for  depriving  Egbert  Grant  of  his  wrongfully  assumed  name  of  Egbert  Vaughn,  and  of 
certifying  the  fact  that  Alfred  Vaughn  and  his  children  are  my  only  assuredly  legitimate 
descendants.  The  estate  of  Bonniemeer  pertaining  to  Maud,  wife  of  Richard  Grant,  in  her 
own  right,  devolves  upon  her  son,  but  failing  heirs  of  his  body  reverts  to  me,  her  nearest 
living  relation,  and  in  case  of  such  reversion  I  hereby  express  my  intention  of  bequeathing 
said  property  to  my  son  Alfred  and  his  descendants,  and  if  sufficient  time  is  allowed  me, 
shall  draw  up  a  formal  instrument  to  that  effect. 

My  son  Reginald,  rest  content  with  this  decision.  You  alone  are,  and  have  ever 
been  the  son  of  my  heart  and  my  hopes.  Whether  the  law  would  recognize  your  legiti- 
macy or  not  I  cannot  say,  and  the  question  need  never  be  agitated,  as  I  shall  leave  to  you 
by  name  the  slender  patrimony  of  Cragness,  sufficient,  if  you  are  prudent,  for  all  your 
needs,  especially  as  I  have  striven  to  imbue  you  with  so  much  of  my  distrust  and  aversion 
to  womankind  as  shall  keep  you  from  the  arch-folly  called  marriage.  Over  the  property 
now  called  Bonniemeer  I  do  not  consider  myself  to  have  any  control,  as  I  never  was 
legally  married  to  its  possessor.  It  descends,  of  right,  to  her  son,  Egbert  Grant. 

In  concluding  this  confession,  a  model  father  would  naturally  deduce  for  the  benefit 
of  his  son,  various  moral  conclusions  and  warnings.  I  prefer  to  leave  them  to  your  own 
common-sense. 

The  characteristics  of  our  race  are  almost  unfailing  iaeach  generation.  Their  errors 
only  vary  in  ranging  from  folly  to  crime,  according  to  the  constitution  of  each  member. 
I  have  little  hope  that  you  will  avoid  them,  but  should  you  find  it  possible  to  do  so,  I 
earnestly  recommend  the  course.  The  old  age  of  lawless  youth  is  not  a  comfortable  one, 
even  to  a  man  sans  peur. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
THE    ORGAN'S    REQUIEM. 

THE  darkening  sky  was  black  with  the  approaching  tempest  now,  and  a  low 
peal  of  thunder  mingled  with  the  deep  tones  of  Fergus's  voice  as  he  pronounced 
the  last  words,  and  suffered  the  parchment  to  fall  from  his  hands. 

In  the  gloomy  chamber  seemed  to  have  fallen  an  uglier  shadow  than  all  those 
crowding  there  before  ;  the  very  air  seemed  thick  with  the  passion  and  the 
wrong,  the  crime  and  the  misery  summoned  from  their  uneasy  graves  by  the  re- 
cital just  finished.  Out  from  the  record  of  that  wicked  life  seemed  to  have 
emanated  a  curse  ready  to  fall  upon  the  heads  of  those,  his  luckless  descend- 
ants already  trembling  in  its  presence.  Already  it  had  set  its  seal  upon  the  wan 
face  of  the  girl,  the  hard  rebellious  brow  of  the  man.  Each  looked  at  the  other 
through  the  gloom,  as  might  the  children  of.  Cain  have  looked  at  each  other 
when  first  they  learned  to  read  the  sign  upon  their  father's  brow. 

Fergus  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  his  tone  was  harsh  and  bitter: 

"  Allow  me  to  congratulate  you,  Neria.  You  are,  it  seems,  the  only  veritable 
Vaughn  among  us,  although  you  have  lost  the  name  by  marriage.  Your  hus- 
band, my  uncle,  has  as  little  right  to  it  as  my  mother  had.  I  wonder  where  we 
shall  find  our  relatives  of  the  Grant  connection." 

"  Richard  Grant's  wife  was  as  much  a  Vaughn  as  her  cousin,  our  great  grand 
father,"  said  Neria,  timidly. 


140  CIPHER. 

"Ah,  yes,  I  forgot;  we  may  claim  cousinship  still  through  that  immaculate 
woman — that  woman  '  sans  reprochej  as  her  cousin  so  aptly  called  her,"  sneered 
Fergus. 

In  the  growing  gloom,  Neria  crept  a  little  closer  to  his  side,  and  put  her  hand 
in  his,  saying,  softly  : 

"  Dear  Fergus,  they  are  dead  long  years  ago.  Let  their  sin  and  their  suffer- 
ing rest  with  them.  Let  us  live  as  if  we  had  never  learned  their  dismal  secrets  ; 
let  us  hold  ourselves  in  the  sunshine  and  leave  these  mournful  shadows  to  them- 
selves. Why  should  we  clasp  them  to  our  hearts  to  darken  what  should  be  all 
brightness.  Let  us  look  for  our  own  faults  which,  with  God's  mercy,  may  yet  be  set 
right ;  and  let  us  only  remember  this  sad  confession  when  we  pray  to  God  to  for- 
give those  who  sinned  before  us,  and  to  keep  our  own  feet  from  the  bitter  path 
they  trod." 

"This  paper  directs  that  the  children  of  Richard  Grant  shall  no  longer  bear 
the  name  of  Vaughn.  It  belongs  alone  to  you,"  persisted  Fergus  ;  but  his  face 
brightened,  his  voice  softei>ed  as  Neria  spoke  and  looked. 

"  Could  he  speak  to  us  now  he  would  take  back  that  cruel  wish.  In  the 
grave  all  is  forgiven.  Make  peace  with  his  memory,  dear  Fergus,  as  you  your- 
self need  pardon.  Forgive  and  be  forgiven." 

As  she  spoke,  the  tempest,  risen  to  its  height,  broke  in  a  fearful  thunder-clap 
directly  above  their  heads  ;  the  bolt  splintering  the  topmost  crag  of  the  Lion's 
Head,  and  sending  its  blackened  fragments  plunging  into  the  flat  and  pallid  sea 
at  its  feet.  The  old  house  rocked  to  its  foundation,  and  the  great  organ  in  its 
recess  quivered  through  every  fibre.  Then,  like  the  swan  who  dies,  its  agx>ny 
found  voice,  and  from  the  long-silent  pipes  crept  a  strange  wild  sound,  as  fantastic 
and  as  thrilling  as  the  supernatural  tones  of  the  ytolian  harp.  For  one  moment 
its  wild  waves  filled  the  chamber,  then  sank,  trembling  through  fine  gradations 
to  a  whisper — a  sigh  faint  as  that  of  a  dying  infant,  and  were  gone.  "It  is  the 
answer  to  my  words — it  is  the  promise  of  peace  and  pardon,"  murmured  Neria. 

Fergus  made  no  reply.  His  hard  reason  refused  to  accept  this  solution  of 
the  phenomenon,  yet  failed  to  furnish  a  better.  While  he  still  hesitated,  another 
flash  of  lightning,  yet  more  blinding  than  the  last,  filled  the  room,  and  in  the 
same  instant  a  clattering  peal  of  thunder  seemed  to  burst  upon  their  very  heads. 

"The  house  is  struck — quick,  Neria  !  "  cried  Fergus  ;  and,  seizing  her  in  his 
arms,  rushed  from  the  room,  through  the  long  corridors,  and  into  the  open  air, 
leaving  the  storm,  the  shadows,  the  grim,  golden  knight,  the  confession  of  Eg- 
bert Vaughn,  the  memory  of  his  son  Reginald,  of  Lazarus  Graves,  of  John  Gil- 
lies, of  Giovanna  Vascetti,  of  all  the  sin  and  misery  which  a  hundred  years  had 
gathered  there,  to  hold  revel  together  in  the  dreary  house. 

But  the  measure  of  its  days  was  full ;  its  heaped  iniquities  might  no  longer  be 
forgiven.  With  a  thunderous  crash  the  western  wall,  riven  stone  from  stone, 
fell  out,  and  through  the  chasm  Fergus  pointed  silently  to  the  organ  already 
wreathed  in  flame,  whose  agile  fingers  ran  across  the  keys,  whose  waving  gar- 
ments fluttered  from  the  choir,  whose  passionate  breath  crept  through  every  tube, 
and  flaunted,  banner-like,  from  the  desecrated  cross  at  the  top. 

Neria  looked  and  hid  her  eyes. 

"  Some  attempt  must  be  made  to  save  the  house  or  its  contents,"  said  Fergus, 
looking  impatiently  down  the  empty  road. 

"  Do  nothing;  it  is  the  hand  of  God,"  replied  Neria,  solemnly.  "  Let  house 
and  secret  perish  together,  and  let  us  trust  that,  with  fire  from  His  own  hand, 
God  has  purged  away  the  guilt  of  each." 


CIPHER.  141 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

ULYSSES    REDIVIVUS. 

THE  tempest  without  was  less  terrible  than  the  flames  and  ruin  within,  and 
the  cousins  resolved  upon  immediate  flight.  But  Mrs.  Vaughn's  ponies  had 
already  decided  the  question  on  their  own  part,  and  tearing  themselves  free  had 
dashed  down  the  road  and  out  of  sight  just  as  the  last  fatal  bolt  descended. 

Nancy  Brume,  waiting  only  to  satisfy  her  conscience  by  informing  her  em- 
ployers of  her  intentions,  had  followed  them,  and  Fergus  saw  no  other  course  but 
to  wrap  Neria  as  securely  as  possible,  and  with  his  arms  about  her,  to  half  carry 
and  half  lead  her  down  the  cliff,  hoping  to  find  some  shelter  at  its  base.  But 
Neria,  wrought  upon  almost  to  frenzy  by  the  scenes  she  had  passed  through, 
was  now  inspired  with  a  wild  terror  of  the  spot  and  its  neighborhood,  and  re- 
fused to  Iisten4o  any  proposition  of  lingering,  even  for  a  few  moments. 

"  No,  no  !  Let  us  get  on.  Anywhere  away  from  this,"  was  her  only  answer 
to  the  expostulations  of  her  companion,  and  when  Fergus  had  marked  the  rigid 
pallor  of  her  face,  the  wild  light  of  her  eyes,  and  the  convulsive  trembling  of  her 
limbs,  he  no  longer  resisted  her  entreaties,  but  led  her  on  through  the  storm, 
shielding  her  as  best  he  could  from  its  fury,  and  silently  longing  to  take  upon 
himself  the  double  of  her  pain,  fatigue  and  terror,  if  so  she  might  be  spared. 
And  still  as  they  struggled  onward  through  the  tempest,  the  flames  of  the  burn- 
ing house  shed  a  lurid  light  along  their  path,  and  as  they  turned  to  look  shot 
upward  in  a  torrent  of  fire  and  smoke,  as  if  earth,  refusing  longer  to  conceal  the 
ghastly  secrets  of  the  house,  committed  them  once  for  all  to  the  Prince  of  the 
Power  of  the  Air,  to  do  with  them  as  he  would.  Then  the  fierce  flame  smoul- 
dered down  to  an  angry  glow,  and  a  cloud  of  smoke  and  mist  wrapped  the  ruin 
from  sight. 

The  way  was  long  and  rough,  and  yet  a  mile  from  the  gates  of  Bonniemeer, 
Neria's  fictitious  strength  suddenly  gaVe  out,  and  she  would  have  fallen  to  the 
earth  but  for  Fergus,  who  hastily  threw  an  arm  about  her  waist,  and  found  her  in 
the  next  moment  swooning  helplessly  upon  his  breast. 

No  human  habitation  lay  nearer  than  Bonniemeer,  but  some  rods  from  where 
they  stood,  Fergus  remembered  a  ruined  smithy  whose  broken  roof  might  yet 
afford  some  shelter  from  the  storm  ;  and,  tenderly  raising  Neria  in  his  arms,  he 
made  his  way  toward  it  as  rapidly  as  his  burden,  the  blinding  rain,  and  the  ap- 
proaching darkness  would  allow. 

As  they  approached  the  shed  Neria,  recovering  consciousness,  struggled  to 
regain  her  feet,  and  Fergus  suffering  her  to  so,  supported  her  by  an  arm  about 
her  waist  while  with  the  other  hand  he  drew  the  light  shawl  more  closely  around 
her  neck.  But  as  they  gained  the  shelter  of  the  smithy  and  paused,  Fergus 
looking  earnestly  into  the  face  of  his  companion  was  startled  by  its  unearthly 
pallor  and  the  vacant  stare  of  the  usually  animated  eyes.  With  a  rare  impulse 
of  tenderness  he  clasped  her  to  his  heart  and  kissing  her  cold  cheek,  mur- 
mured : 

"  You  are  too  nearly  an  angel,  for  the  sin  and  trouble  of  this  world,  dar- 
ling." 

With  a  faint  sigh  Neria's  head  sank  upon  his  breast,  and  he,  not  knowing 
that  she  had  swooned  again,  bent  his  own  above  it  in  caressing  tenderness. 

At  the  same  moment,  a  man  who  had,  at  their  entrance,  secreted  himself  be- 
hind the  chimney  of  the  forge,  and  thence  attentively  watched  and  listened  to  at 


142  CIPHER. 

that  passed,  stepped  quietly  through  a  chasm  in  the  wall  of  the  ruin,  and  with 
bent  head  and  muffled  form,  made  his  way  through  the  storm  in  the  direction  of 
Bonniemeer. 

An  hour  later,  Neria,  leaning  heavily  upon  her  cousin's  arm,  reached  the 
house,  and  was  met  at  the  door  by  Francia. 

"  Why  Neria  !  How  came  you  to  walk  in  such  a  dreadful  storm,  and  where 
is  the  carriage  ?  But  what  do  you  think  ?  Papa  is  here." 

"  Here  !  "  exclaimed  Neria,  faintly. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  He  came  in  the  stage-coach,  and  one  of  Burrough's  men 
drove  him  over  about  three  o'clock.  He  wanted  to  go  on  to  Cragness  and  meet 
you,  but  you  had  the  ponies,  and  the  carriage  horses  are  both  sick,  John  says, 
so — but  you  musn't  stand  here  in  your  drenched  clothes.  Go  up  stairs,  please, 
and  I  will  run  and  tell  papa  you  are  come  home." 

"  No,  no,  not  yet,"  cried  Neria,  catching  at  Francia's  dress  as  she  turned 
toward  the  library  door. 

"  I  am  so  tired  and  wet,  he  would  be  disturbed,"  pursued  she,  in  answer  to 
the  look  of  surprise  upon  the  young  girl's  face.  "  Let  me  go  up  stairs  first  and 
change  my  dress." 

"  Come  then,  I  will  go  and  help  you.  Let  us  be  as  quick  as  we  can.  Papa 
must  be  asleep  or  he  would  hear  your  voice." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Neria,"  interrupted  Fergus,  and  drawing  her  a  little  aside, 
whispered, 

"  Shall  you  tell  my  uncle  what  we  have  discovered  ?  " 

"  O  no,"  returned  Neria,  in  the  same  tone,  "  what  need  of  disturbing  him 
with  it  ?  Let  us  forget  it,  or  at  least  appear  to  forget." 

"  Fergus,  you  shouldn't  keep  Neria  now,  she  is  very  wet  and  will  take  cold. 
Besides,  she  wants  to  see  papa,"  called  Francia,  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs  ;  and 
Neria  obeyed  the  summons,  while  Fergus,  with  rather  an  angry  glance  at  his 
cousin,  sought  his  uncle  for  the  double  purpose  of  greeting  him  and  of  relating 
the  catastrophe  of  Cragness. 

Half  an  hour  later  when  Neria,  refreshed,  but  still  pale  and  worn  with  her 
recent  fatigue  of  body  and  mind,  came  to  greet  her  husband,  Vaughn  met  her 
with  a  grave  and  even  pitiful  tenderness  very  different  from  the  fond  devotion 
he  had  been  wont  to  exhibit  in  the  first  days  of  their  marriage.  And  as  Neria 
raised  her  eyes  to  his  face  she  was  shocked  to  see  how  it  had  changed  since 
their  separation. 

"  You  are  not  looking  well,  Sieur.  Have  you  been  ill  ?  "  asked  she,  kindly, 
and  yet  with  a  timid  reserve  in  her  voice,  painfully  familiar  to  her  husband's  ear. 

"  Not  at  all,  only  hard  at  work,"  replied  he,  releasing  the  hand  he  had  taken 
as  he  kissed  her  cheek.  "  I  have  found  plenty  to  occupy  my  time,  especially  of 
late,  and  I  have  only  asked  a  furlough  now  for  a  week.  I  shall  return  to-mor- 
row." 

"  So  soon  ? "  asked  Neria,  and  to  Vaughn's  sensitive  ear  it  was  as  if  she  had 
said,  "It  is  well  it  is  no  longer." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  Francia's  voice  volubly  filled  the  silence  with  regrets, 
entreaties  and  exclamations  of  dismay.  Fergus  standing  in  a  distant  window 
with  his  back  to  the  room,  took  no  part  in  the  conversation.  He  had  fancied 
his  uncle's  greeting  to  him  strangely  cold,  and  his  manner  repellant  although 
strictly  courteous  ;  and  Fergus,  man  of  the  world  as  he  was,  was  still  young 
enough  to  allow  a  slight  he  could  not  resent  to  obviously  disturb  his  mind. 

Tea  was  served,  and  under  the  genial  influence  of  the  brilliant  table,  the  ex- 


CIPHER.  143 

quisite  beverage,  and  the  harmonious  influence  of  social  feeling,  a  certain  su- 
perficial cheerfulness  veiled  for  a  time  to  each  mind  its  substantial  anxieties  and 
troubles.  But  when  in  the  great  drawing-room  they  gathered  about  the  smoul- 
dering fire,  and  looked  each  in  the  other's  face,  a  shadow  of  reserve  and  isola- 
tion seemed  to  stand  between,  dividing  those  who  should  have  been  nearest, 
and  replacing  flhe  fond  confidences  of  a  reunited  family  by  the  ominous  sen- 
tence, "  Every  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,  and  there  is  a  grief  with  which 
the  stranger  intermeddleth  not."  Only  Francia,  in,  whose  mind  the  necessity 
of  concealing  her  feelings  from  Fergus  was  even  more  urgent  than  the  feelings 
themselves,  assumed  a  liveliness  so  forced  as  to  border  on  levity,  and  without 
perceiving  that  no  one  listened,  no  one  applauded,  that  Vaughn  was  abstracted 
and  gloomy,  Neria  pre-occupied  with  her  own  thoughts,  and  Fergus  with  Neria. 

The  evening  dragged  wearily  on,  and  at  an  earlier  honr  than  usual  Neria 
rose,  pleading  fatigue,  and  bade  good-night.  Vaughn  accompanied  her  to  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  and  taking  her  hand  looked  deep  into  her  eyes. 

"  Sleep  well  to-night,  pale  nun,"  said  he,  sadly.     "  To-morrow  I  shall  be  gone." 

"O  Sieur  !  you  do  not  think  I  wish  it?  You  do  not  feel  your  visit  unwel- 
come ?"  asked  Neria,  in  pained  surprise. 

"  My  visit  ?  You  are  right,  Neria,  I  have  no  home,  no  wife.  Good-night, 
child,  do  not  be  grieved  at  what  I  say,  do  not  think  I  blame  you.  You  have 
been  as  courteous  to  me  as  to  any  gentleman  who  might  have  been  the  guest  of 
the  house  for  a  night.  More,  I  did  not  expect,  or  if  I  did,  I  deserved  to  be  again 
disappointed."  He  smiled  as  men  have  smiled  while  death  tore  at  their  hearts 
and  drank  their  blood,  and  left  her  to  wearily  clirnb  the  stairs  and  sink  forlorn 
upon  the  floor  of  her  chamber,  crying, 

"  O  mother,  broken-hearted  mother,  why  did  you  not  cast  me  into  the  sea 
before  you  died  upon  its  brink  ?  Cruel,  cruel  life,  and  O  most  merciful  death  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

NOBLESSE        OBLIGE. 

THE  next  morning,  Colonel  Vaughn,  returning  from  his  morning  walk,  was 
overtaken  by  a  ragged  boy,  who  thrusting  a  billet  into  his  hand  with  the  injunc- 
tion, "  Miss  Rhee  says  you  must  look  at  it  right  off,"  turned  and  shot  away  in  the 
direction  of  Carrick  with  a  rapidity  strongly  suggestive  of  a  reward  in  prospect. 

Vaughn  looked  after  him  a  moment  in  some  surprise,  and  then  opening  the 
paper  read, 

"  I  am  dying.  Come  to  me  once  more  for  the  sake  of  Francia's  mother,  if  not 
for  the  sake  of  poor  Anita." 

As  he  read,  Vaughn's  haggard  face  grew  yet  paler,  and  he  muttered : 

"  Does  not  the  day  bring  its  own  troubles  without  calling  back  those  of  yes- 
terday ?  Anita,  Gabrielle,  Francia,  if  I  have  wronged  you,  be  content,  for  Neria 
revenges  all." 

Tearing  the  paper  into  atoms,  he  scattered  them  upon  the  fresh  autumn  wind 
and  walked  slowly  homeward. 

The  unsocial  breakfast  over,  Vaughn  took  his  hat  and  left  the  house,  but 
paused  a  moment  on  the  terrace,  doubting  whether  he  should  not  mention  his 
destination,  and  yet  disliking  to  enter  upon  the  subject  of  Mrs.  Rhee  with  any 
member  of  the  family  who  had  been  taught  to  avoid  her  name. 

Standing  thus,  Fergus's  voice  reached  his  ear  through  the  closed  blinds  of  the 
library.  "  You  look  ill  and  worn,  Neria.  Are  you  disturbed  at  anything  ? " 


144  CIPHER. 

"  How  can  you  ask,  Fergus  ?  This  terrible  secret  .crushes  me  to  the  earth. 
It  will  kill  me  with  its  shame  and  sin,"  murmured  Neria  in  reply  ;  and  Vaughn 
starting  as  if  a  serpent  had  lain  at  his  feet,  sprang  down  the  steps  and  struck 
toward  Carrick,  his  brows  drawn  low  above  his  glittering  eyes,  his  mouth  hard 
and  white  with  the  emotion  he  suppressed. 

Arrived  at  the  little  cottage,  he  was  admitted  by  the  old. domestic  as  an 
expected  guest,  and  conducted  at  once  to  Mrs.  Rhee's  bedchamber. 

"  You  have  come  !  "  excjaimed  the  dying  woman,  extending  her  wasted  hands 
and  fastening  her  eyes  hungrily  upon  his  face.  "  I  was  afraid  you  would  ntft." 

"  Why  should  I  refuse,  Anita  ?  If  you  indeed  are  dying,  I  shall  lose  in  your 
death  a  heart  that  once,  at  least,  loved  me  well." 

And  Vaughn,  half  bitterly,  half  tenderly  pressed  the  thin  hands  to  his  lips  ;  and, 
seating  himself,  retained  them  in  his  grasp.  Upon  the  wan  face  of  the  dying 
woman  came  the  flush  and  light  of  almost  incredible  joy,  and  the  ebbing  life 
seemed  to  rush  back  in  a  flood  to  her  heart  as  she  cried  : 

"  And  you  say  it !  O  Frederick,  not  once,  but  always — now — this  very  mo- 
ment, I  love  you  as  no  woman  ever  will  or  ever  can  love  you.  Believe  that,  and  tell 
me  you  believe  it  before  I  die,  for  it  is  so  many,  many  years  that  you  have  forced 
me  to  be  silent,  that  you  cannot  know  how  unswerving  my  love  has  been  from 
then  till  now." 

"  And  has  this  love  been  joy  or  sorrow  ?  "  asked  Vaughn,  abruptly. 

"A  bitter  joy,  a  cherished  sorrow,"  replied  Anita,  alter  a  pause. 

"So  is  love  always  to  one  of  the  two  it  falls  between,"  returned  Vaughn, 
harshly.  "Be  content,  Anita, your  love  is  as  happy  as  mine  ;  happier,  for  it  had 
its  day,  a  brief  one,  perhaps,  but  bright  while  it  lasted.  You  were  content  while 
we  were  abroad  ?  " 

"  Content !  "  exclaimed  Anita,  while  the  flush  upon  her  cheek  deepened  to  a 
fever  glow.  "  Each  moment  of  that  time  has  made  tolerable  a  year  of  the  life 
since.  I  die  because  those  moments  are  expended." 

"  Pity  me,  then,  Anita,"  groaned  Vaughn,  hiding  his  face  upon  the  bed. 
"  Pity  me,  for  I  have  no  such  memories  to  support  me,  and  I  am  a  man  and  can- 
not die." 

"  She  does  not  love  you  then,  this  pale  girl,  whom  you  have  placed  above  all  the 
queens  of  the  earth  by  giving  her  your  heart  and  your  name  ? "  asked  the  octoroon, 
fiercely. 

"  She  does  not  love  me  !  She  loathes  my  presence,  my  voice,  my  face.  If  I 
touch  her  she  swoons  with  disgust  and  terror." 

As  the  bitter  words  dropped  from  his  lips  Vaughn  would,  if  he  could,  have 
snatched  them  back,  but  it  was  too  late.  Anita's  jealous  ears  had  caught  every 
one,  and  she  murmured  passionately,  "  If  I  could  but  live,  if  I  could  but 
live  !  " 

Vaughn  did  not  hear  her.  He  was  pacing  the  little  room  through  and 
through,  and  already  had  forgotten  the  presence  of  the  dying  woman,  when  she 
said  meaningly, 

"There  is  good  cause,  no  doubt,  for  such  coldness.  Does  Fergus  Murray 
remain  at  Bonniemeer  since  your  return  ?  " 

Vaughn  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant,  her  hands  grasped  in  his,  her  eyes 
chained  by  the  terrible  inquisition  of  his  gaze.  "Anita!  What  does  this 
mean  ?  Explain  yourself,  or  you  shall  die  repenting  that  you  had  ever  spoken." 

"  You  should  have  learned  in  the  old  time  that  to  threaten  was  to  seal  my 
lips,"  returned  Anita  sullenly. 


CIPHER.  145 

"Yes,  but  speak  !  Woman,  you  will  drive  me  mad  !  Speak  out,  for  God's 
sake." 

"  For  your  sake,  who  are  my  God,  I  will  speak.  Do  you  not  know  that  long 
before  the  fatal  idea  of  making  her  your  wife  occurred  to  you,  your  nephew  loved 
her  and  she  him  ?  She  would  have  married  him,  but  it  was  better  to  be  mis- 
tress of  Bonniemeer  than  the  wife  of  a  young  man  with  his  fortune  yet  to 
make — " 

"  No.  There  you  are  wrong,  I  will  swear,"  interposed  Vaughn,  sternly.  "  She 
has  nothing  mean  or  calculating  about  her.  She  is  above  the  world  in  her  errors 
as  in  her  virtues." 

"O  well  then,"  sneered  Anita.  "  Very  likely  it  was  some  romantic  idea  of 
gratitude,  of  "sacrificing  her  own  wishes  to  those  of  the  man  who  had  been  a 
providence  to  her  when  Providence  deserted  her.  She  offered  herself  a  victim 
to  your  passion." 

Again  Vaughn  started  to  his  feet,  stung  to  the  heart  by  an  explanation  tally- 
ing so  cruelly  with  the  experiences  of  his  married  life.  "And  I,  who  loved  her 
so  far  beyond  myself,  accepted  the  sacrifice." 

"The  sacrifice  was  incomplete  it  seems,  for  she  could  not  conceal,  even  in 
your  arms,  her  regrets  for  another,"  said  she,  cunningly. 

Vaughn  paused  in  his  stride,  looked  at  her  as  looks  the  wounded  lion  at  the 
foe  who  has  hurt  him  unto  death  and  yet  holds  himself  beyond  his  reach,  and 
said  nothing. 

"It  is  not  for  myself  that  I  speak,"  resumed  Anita ;  "  I  am  dying,  and  even 
though  I  lived,  I  have  long  since  relinquished  all  hope  of  your  love  ;  but  it  is 
Francia — it  is  the  child  of  my  child  who  is  the  true  sufferer,  the  real  victim. 
Long  ago,  before  you  forbade  her  to  visit  me,  I  knew  that  she  loved  Fergus,  and 
when  I  found  her  suffering  and  troubled,  I  drew  from  her  the  secret  that  was 
poisoning  her  life.  She  loved  Fergus,  and  Fergus  would  have  loved  her,  but 
that  Neria  stood  between,  and  drew  him  to  her  with  the  wonderful  magic  of  her 
smile.  I  tried  to  soothe  and  quiet  her,  but  the  child  inherits  the  passions  of 
her  mother's  race  with  the  pride  of  yours,  and  she  threw  herself  away  upon  a 
man  whom  already  she  despises.  Neria  married  you,  and  now  rewards  herself 
for  the  sacrifice  by  indulging  her  passion  for  Fergus  in  your  absence.  "  Do  you 
know  where  they  were  yesterday  ? " 

"  At  Cragness,"  replied  Vaughn,  briefly. 

"Yes.  The  whole  day  alone  in  that  deserted  house.  Even  the  woman  who 
lived  there  was  sent  to  Carrick,  and  it  was  night  before  they  returned  home." 

"What  scandal  are  you  trying  to  make  of  this  ?  The  place  was  struck  by 
lightning  and  burned  to  the  ground.  Mrs.  Vaughn's  horses  were  frightened  and 
escaped,  and  she  was  forced  to  walk  home  ;  of  course  it  was  late  when  they  ar- 
rived. Be  careful,  Anita,  not  to  go  beyond  the  truth." 

"  Beyond  !  "  exclaimed  the  octoroon,  with  an  evil  laugh.  "  Be  careful  you, 
not  to  go  so  far  as  the  truth  if  you  still  would  hold  to  your  idol.  How  engross- 
ing the  conversation  or  the  business  which  took  them  there  must  have  been, 
when  neither  the  lady  nor  the  gentleman  perceived  the  tempest  gathering  in  time 
to  escape  it  !  Nancy  Brume  had  watched  it  for  hours,  and  went  to  the  library 
door  to  warn  them  of  it,  but,  although  she  knocked  loudly,  no  one  replied.  Mrs. 
Vaughn  is  a  great  business  woman,  I  believe  ;  probably  she  was  engaged  in  set- 
tling old  accounts." 

"  That  is  enough.  Not  one  word  more,"  groaned  Vaughn,  and  his  torturer, 
looking  in  his  livid  face  and  meeting  the  gaze  of  his  burning  eyes,  saw  that  it 


I46  CIPHER. 

was  enough,  and  sank  back  upon  the  pillows  exhausted  with  the  vehemence  of 
her  own  passion.  When  she  spoke  again  it  was  jn  an  altered  tone.  "  Frederick, 
shall  not  I  see  Francia  once  more  before  I  die  ?  " 

"  To  poison  her  ears  with  this  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  swear  before  God  not  to  reveal  one  word  of  all  that  has  passed  be- 
tween us.  I  only  wish  to  bid  her  good-by,  to  kiss  her  lips  and  feel  her  pure 
breath  upon  my  cheek.  Remember,  she  is  the  only  creature  of  my  blood  in  the 
whole  world.  You  will  not  deny  my  dying  wish  .'" 

"  I  dare  not.     She  shall  come,  if  you  will  promise  also  not  to  reveal  yourself." 

"  I  promise.     When  shall  she  come  ?  " 

"  To-day."     I  shall  not  return  to  Bonniemeer,  but  you  may  send  for  her." 

"  You  will  not  return  !  Will  you  not  let  them  know  that  they  are  dfscoV' 
ered  ?  " 

"  Discovered  ?  I  do  not  comprehend  you,  Mrs.  Rhee,"  said  Vaughn,  with  a 
haughty  coldness.  "The  scandalous  suspicions  you  have  suggested  with  re- 
gard to  my  wife  and  my  nephew,  inspire  in  my  mind  only  a  feeling  of  contempt 
for  the  slanderer  who  can  utter  them.  They  harmonize  well  with  the  anony- 
mous letter  whose  author  I  now  recognize." 

Anita  started  to  her  elbow.  "  An  anonymous  letter  relating  to  Neria  and 
Fergus  ! "  cried  she,  in  tones  of  genuine  surprise.  "  Have  you  such  a  one  ? 
It  was  not  from  me.  I  swear  it  by  all  that  is  sacred." 

"  It  is  sufficient.     I  believe  you,"  said  Vaughn,  briefly. 

"And  this  letter,  from  an  entirely  different  source — does  this  also  excite  only 
contempt  for  the  slanderer  who  wrote  it  ?  "  sneered  the  octoroon. 

Vaughn  hesitated  ;  but  only  for  a  moment,  only  until  the  chivalrous  honor  of 
his  nature  could  assert  itself.  Then  he  said  :  "  Yes  ;  I  will  not  believe  Neria 
guilty  of  more  than  the  fatal  error  of  sacrificing  herself  to  me,  until  my  own 
eyes  or  her  own  tongue  convict  her." 

"  Such  proof  you  will  never  have.  She  is  too  careful,"  muttered  the  baffled 
woman,  bitterly. 

"  Such  proof  I  shall  never  have,  for  a  lie  cannot  be  proved.  To  connect  sin 
or  shame  with  Neria  is  to  drag  the  heavens  down  and  trample  on  them."  But 
as  the  words  left  bis  lips,  a  fiend's  echoed  in  his  ear  those  that  Neria  had  that 
morning  spoken  to  Fergus  : 

"  This  terrible  secret  crushes  me  to  the  earth.  It  will  kill  me  with  its  shame 
and  sin,"  and  his  proud  heart  quailed  within  him.  He  threw  himself  upon  his 
knees.  "  My  God,  my  God  !  "  groaned  he.  "  Let  me  not  lose  my  reason,  let  me 
not  lose  my  faith  in  her.  Take  life,  take  honor,  happiness,  all,  but  leave  me  my 
faith  in  her — let  me  die  with  her  pure  image  in  my  heart."  Never  prayer  was 
thus  wrung  from  the  centre  of  a  tortured  soul,  and  remained  unanswered,  never 
since  He,  hanging  on  the  cross,  called  upon  the  Father  and  was  comforted. 
Vaughn  arose  pale  and  serene.  The  temptress,  looking  at  him,  knew  that  her 
power  was  over,  her  work  done,  and  with  a  bitter  moan  she  turned  her  face  to 
the  wall  and  was  dumb.  Without  another  word  Vaughn  left  the  room,  and  an* 
hour  later  was  on  his  way  to  the  great  battle  he  knew  to  be  approaching,  and  in 
whose  front  he  now  hoped  to  lay  down  the  life  he  no  longer  cared  to  keep.  He 
had  not,  however,  forgotten  his  promise.  In  the  hurried  note  of  leave-taking, 
written  to  Francia,  from  Carrick,  he  had  bidden  her  go  to  Mrs.  Rhee  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  had  sent  word  to  Neria  that  she  would  receive  a  letter  from  him  in 
a  day  or  two.  explaining  his  abrupt  departure  in  full. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
MRS.  RHEE'S  PARTHIAN  ARROW. 

TO  Neria  came  Francia  with  her  father's  note.  She  found  her  in  the  library 
with  Fergus,  who  reported  the  present  condition  of  the  ruins  at  Crag- 
ness,  and  the  attempt  he  had,  by  his  uncle's  desire,  put  in  progress  to  rescue 
such  books,  pictures  or  furniture  as  might  have  been  spared  by  the  flames.  As 
Francia  entered,  Neria  was  saying — 

"  I  am  sorry  anything  is  to  be  done.  I  had  rather  everything  perished  to- 
gether." 

"  That  is  just  of  a  piece  with  my  news,"  exclaimed  Francia,  in  a  voice  oddly 
compounded  of  grief  and  vexation. 

"  Here  papa  has  run  away  without  even  coming  back  to  bid  good-bye,  and 
only  says  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  see  us  again  before  starting,  but  he  will 
write  to  you  to-morrow  to  explain  ;  and  he  says  that  poor  Mrs.  Rhee  is  dying 
and  wants  to  see  me  again  and  I  may  go.  Come  with  me,  Neria,  please.  I 
don't  know  what  to  say  to  any  one  who  is  dying,  and  I  shall  be  afraid." 

"  Afraid  of  what  ?  "  asked  Fergus,  somewhat  contemptuously. 

"  Not  afraid  of  being  too  tender  with  her,  as  you  might  be,"  retorted  Fran- 
cia, turning  decidedly  toward  Neria,  who  sat  pale  and  silent. 

"  Come  with  me,  won't  you  ?  "  pleaded  she. 

"  To  Mrs.  Rhee  ?    Yes,  certainly  ;  but  show  me  your  father's  note.    Gone  !  " 

"  Yes,  actually  gone.  Here's  the  note,  and  I  will  run  and  change  my  dress. 
Shall  I  order  the  pony  carriage  ?  " 

"  Yes,  please,"  replied  Neria,  absently,  and  as  the  door  closed,  turned  to 
Fergus,  her  eyes  full  of  perplexity  and  dismay. 

"Why  should  Sieur  have  left  us  so,  and  why  was  he  so  strange  while  here  ?" 

"  I  cannot  tell,  nor  do  I  wish  to  speculate  upon  either  question.  It  would  be 
an  impertinence  toward  my  uncle.  He  promises  to  write  and  explain  fully  to- 
morrow, you  see,"  replied  Fergus,  characteristically. 

"Yes,  but  I  feel  that  something  is  amiss.  I  had  meant — I  had  hoped  while 
he  was  here — " 

She  paused  and  Fergus  would  never  have  asked  her  to  continue,  had  his  cu- 
riosity been  excited  to  its  fullest  extent.  He  only  took  her  hand,  kissed  it  light- 
ly and  walked  away  to  the  window,  lest  he  should  seern  to  watch  the  emotion 
she  could  scarce  control. 

The  silence  had  not  been  broken  when  Francia  returned,  bringing  Neria's 
hat  and  announcing  the  carriage. 

Fergus,  with  silent  courtesy,  waited  upon  his  cousins  to  the  door,  helped 
Fiancia  to  entei  the  carriage  as  carefully  as  he  did  Neria,  and  saw  them  drive 


148  CIPHER. 

away  before  re-entering  the  house.  Upon  the  library  floor  he  found  Neria's 
handkerchief,  wet  with  the  tears  she  had  been  unable  quite  to  repress.  He  put 
it  to  his  lips  and  hid  it  in  his  bosom,  whispering — 

"  Did  she  weep  because  she  loves  him  and  he  is  gone,  or  because  she  loves 
me  and  fears  her  own  heart  in  his  absence  ?  And  I— can  I  stay  here  loving 
her  as  I  do  love  her  ?  Did  he  read  it  in  my  face  or  in  my  heart  ?  Is  this  the 
pure  hon:>r  I  have  tried  to  guard  before  everything  ?  I  will  leave  this  place  to- 
night." And  then,  sternly  suspicious  of  the  tender  weakness  which  had  overta- 
ken him,  Fergus  drew  the  little  handkerchief  from  its  hiding  place,  and  denying 
himself  even  one  more  kiss,  laid  it  upon  the  table,  and  taking  a  book,  buried 
himself  in  its  contents  with  all  the  force  of  his  iron  will. 

The  rapid  diive  to  Carrick  was  almost  a  silent  one.  Neria,  sad  and  grave, 
answered  but  briefly  Francia's  first  attempts  at  conversation,  and  as  they  ap- 
proached their  destination  the  young  girl  herself  grew  grave  in  remembering 
their  errand. 

"  You  must  go  up-stairs  with  me,"  whispered  Francia,  as  they  stood  in  the 
passage  of  the  little  cottage,  and  she  was  informed  that  Mrs.  Rhee  would  see 
her.  Neria  silently  assented,  and  the  two  entered  together  the  chamber  of  the 
dying  woman  and  stoud  at  her  bedside.  She  was  dozing,  but  opened  her  eyes 
as  they  approached,  fixed  them  fondly  on  Francia  and  then  turned  to  Neria. 

"  Since  you  have  come  here  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  Mrs.  Vaughn," 
said  she,  maliciously^  "  I  did  not  send  for  you,  but  Fate  has  given  me  the  oppor- 
tunity. Francia,  will  you  wait  below  for  a  few  moments  ?  I  must  see  you  last." 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish,  aunty,"  replied  Francia,  moving  somewhat  reluc- 
tantly to  the  door,  and  casting  wondering  looks  at  Neria,  who  although  much 
surprised  at  the  request  made  no  movement  to  contradict  it. 

"  Sit  here  close  by  my  bedside,"  continued  the  dying  woman,  as  the  door 
closed  behind  Francia. 

Neria  silently  obeyed,  and  Mrs.  Rhee  gazed  scrutinizing!}-  upon  the  pure 
pale  face  with  its  fearless  eyes  and  queenly  mouth. 

"  I  will  move  you  from  that  proud  calm  before  I  am  done,"  thought  she,  and 
then  said,  significantly,  "  Mr.  Vaughn  was  here  this  morning  and  talked  to  me  a 
long  time  of  you." 

"  Indeed!" 

"  Yes.  You  think  it  strange  that  he  should  confide  so  much  in  one  who  has 
been  no  better  than  a  servant  in  his  house.  But  old  habits  are  strong,  and  long 
before  he  ever  saw  you  he  found  in  me  all  that  he  required  of  friendship  or  love. 
Why  should  he  not  return  to  me  in  his  disappointment  and  his  grief? " 

"  I  have  not  blamed  him  for  doing  so,"  replied  Neria,  calmly,  as  the  other 
waited  for  an  answer. 

"  But  your  lips  grow  white  with  mortification  at  finding  that  he  confides  in 
me  what  he  hides  from  you.  You  would  give  that  diamond  o.T  your  finger  to 
know  what  those  confidences  were."  persisted  the  other. 

"  I  would  not  allow  you  to  tell  me  if  you  wished.  What  Colonel  Vaughn 
desires  to  keep  secret  from  me  I  have  no  desire  to  learn." 

"You  were  always  a  hypocrite,  but  you  never  cheated  me  with  your  actful 
ways,  nor  do  you  now,"  exclaimed  the  octoroon,  fiercely.  "  But  you  shall  know, 
whether  you  will  or  not.  You  are  found  out,  madam  !  Your  husband  has  gone 
away  without  seeing  you,  because  he  has  discovered  your  intrigues  with  Fergus 
Murray,  and  will  not  stoop  even  to  reproach  you  w'th  your  unfaithfulness,  he 
holds  you  in  such  contempt." 


CIPHER.  149 

Neria  rose  and  stood  looking  down  upon  the  miserable  woman  who  sought 
to  insult  her,  with  a  sublime  compassion,  a  lofty  innocence. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying,  but  I  will  not  listen  longer.  You  must 
be  very  unhappy  to  feel  so  toward  me,  who  never  harmed  or  wished  you  ill.  It 
is  not  the  first  time  you  have  hurt  me.  I  knew  that  you  tried  to  make  Chloe 
poison  me.  I  knew  that  you  made  Francia  suspicious  and  jealous  of  me,  but  I 
knew,  too,  your  own  unhappy  story  and  I  forgave  and  pitied  you,  understanding 
how  you  should  feel  me  an  usurper  both  of  Francia's  place  and  of  your  daugh- 
ter's. And  even  now,  when  you  have  done  me  this  last  great  injury,  I  still  can 
pity,  and  if  before  you  die  your  conscience  stings  you  for  the  evil  you  have  done 
and  tried  to  do  to  me,  remember  that  I  have  freely  forgiven  all." 

"  Forgive  !  You  forgive  me  !  "  screamed  Mrs.  Rhee,  her  face  distorted,  her 
eyes  glaring  with  impotent  rage.  "You  dare  to  stand  there,  accusing  and  for- 
giving me  ;  you,  whose  husband  has  this  very  day  l^ft  you  forever  because  he 
knew  you  to  be  false  and  a  wanton — " 

"  Stop ! "  cried  Neria,  and  into  her  pale  face  flashed  the  seraphic  power 
which  had  subdued  Luttrell,  which  had  drawn  her  secret  from  Chloe's  reluctant 
lips  ;  the  power  of  a  nature  untouched  by  sin,  though  filled  with  the  knowledge 
of  good  and  evil. 

"Stop!  I  will  not  allow  you  to  add  to  the  burden  already  on  your  soul. 
Do  you  not  see  that  it  is  yourself  and  not  me  whom  you  injure  ?  Do  you  think 
any  words  of  yours  could  make  such  a  monstrous  lie  look  like  the  truth  to  a  man 
like  Vaughn,  or  do  you  think  you  could  force  me  to  believe  that  he  believed  it  ? 
You  have  failed,  utterly  failed,  and  I  have  no  anger,  only  a  profound  compassion, 
a  full  forgiveness  for  you.  Pray  God  to  forgive  you,  also,  and  thank  Him  that 
you  have  not  been  suffered  to  succeed." 

"  Begone  !  Send  me  Francia,"  gasped  the  dying  woman,  upon  whom  her 
excessive  emotion  was  telling  fearfully. 

Neria  left  the  room  without  reply,  and  telling  Francia  that  Mrs.  Rhee  was 
ready  for  her,  added  a  caution  against  staying  long,  as  she  was  already  much  ex- 
hausted. Half  an  hour  passed  while  Neria.  waiting  in  the  little  parlor,  resolutely 
battled  with  the  doubts  and  terror,  inspired,  in  spite  of  her  determination,  by  Mrs. 
Rhee's  explanation  of  Vaughn's  disappearance. 

She  was  roused  from  her  reverie  by  quick  footsteps  running  down  the  stairs, 
and  Francia's  voice  calling  to  her  from  the  passage,  as  she  hurried  out  of  the 
house  and  seated  herself  in  the  carriage.  Neria  followed  with  some  anxiety. 

"  Is  some  one  with  Mrs.  Rhee  ?  She  should  not  be  left  alone,"  asked  she, 
hesitating. 

"  Yes,  I  called  the  nurse  from  the  next  room.  She  did  not  wish  me  to  stay," 
replied  Francia,  hurriedly  ;  as  she  drew  her  veil  closely  about  her  face,  and 
takinjr  the  reins  drove  rapidly  homeward. 

Neria  looked  at  her  in  suprise.  The  voice,  the  manner,  the  reserve  was  so 
unlike  Francia,  especially  toward  herself. 

"  You  are  distressed  at  sight  of  your  old  friend  sp  near  her  death,  dear  ?  "  said 
she,  inquiringly,  when  some  moments  had  passed  in  silence. 

•"  My  old  friend  ?  Yes,  and  more  of  a  friend  than  younger  ones.  If  I  had 
known  her  sooner — " 

She  slopped  abruptly,  as  fearing  to  betray  a  secret,  and  with  averted  face 
urged  the  horses  to  a  more  rapid  pace. 

Neria  leaned  back  in  her  seat,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  distant  shimmer  of 
the  sea,  lying  like  a  lake  of  fire  beneath  the  noonday  sun.  and  the  bitterness  of 
wronged  and  repulsed  affection  surged  irresistibly  upon  her  soul. 


ISO  CIPHER. 

"  First  Vaughn,  and  now  Francia  ;  she  has  alienated  both  with  her  wicked 
falsehoods  !  "  thought  she. 

Reaching  home,  Francia  threw  the  reins  to  the  groom,  sprang  from  the  car- 
riage without  a  word,  and  hurried  to  her  own  room.  Neria  did  not  follow  her 
there,  but  still  stood  wistfully  watching  her  retreating  figure  when  Fergus, 
opening  the  library  door,  asked  her  to  enter  for  a  moment. 

"  I  wanted  to  say  good-bye,  that  is  all.  I  must  return  to  town  to-night,  and 
am  about  to  start  for  Carrick  now.  Can  John  drive  me  over  ?  "  said  he,  with 
forced  indifference  of  manner. 

"  You,  too  ! "  exclaimed  Neria  in  a  tone  of  sharp  distress,  and  turning,  she 
would  have  left  the  room,  but  staggering  blindly  against  a  chair  sank  beside  it, 
her  face  hidden  upon  it,  and  broke  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

Fergus,  not  guessing  the  pain  and  doubt  filling  her  heart  to  overflowing  when 
she  entered,  stood  thunderstruck  for  a  moment,  and  then  a  strange  wild  joy 
throbbed  through  his  veins.  This  uncontrollable  grief,  this  emotion  so  rare  in 
one  so  habitually  calm  ;  was  it  that  Neria  felt  his  presence  a  necessity,  that  she 
leaned  upon  him  and  could  not  lose  him  ? 

He  stooped  and  raised  her  in  his  arms.  "  Darling  !  what  is  this  ? "  whis- 
pered he,  in  a  palpitating  voice.  "  Shall  I  not  leave  you  ?  Do  you  care  to 
have  me  stay?"  His  lips  sought  hers  and  kissed  them  tenderly,  but  Neria 
wrenched  herself  from  his  embrace,  crying  : 

"  This  !  O  this  is  worst  of  all !  Leave  me,  cast  me  off  as  they  have  done, 
but  do  not  make  me  despise  myself  and  you  !  Such  love  is  worse  than  the  de- 
sertion, the  alienation,  the  hate  that  others  have  heaped  upon  me  ! " 

She  fled  out  of  his  presence,  and  Fergus,  guessing  at  his  mistake,  cursing 
his  fatal  error,  and  consumed  with  mortification  at  his  own  weakness  and  the 
injury  he  had  done  both  to  Neria's  feelings  and  her  opinion  of  himself,  left  the 
house  abruptly,  with  no  further  leave-taking  or  explanation. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

"NOT   LAUNCELOT   OR   ANOTHER." 

THE  next  day  brought  Vaughn's  promised  letter  to  Neria.     It  was  this  : 

Pardon  the  seeming  discourtesy  of  my  abrupt  departure,  and  my  first  signifying  it  to 
Francia.  I  could  not  see  you  again,  Neria,  I  could  not  write  to  you  of  less  than  the 
whole. 

Remember  first  and  always  in  what  I  have  to  say,  that  I  hold  you  above  all  women  in 
my  respect,  and  in  my  love,  and  that  whatever  unhappiness  has  come  between  us  I  trace 
wholly  to  my  own  folly,  and  would,  if  possible,  keep  wholly  to  my  own  heart,  leaving  you 
only  the  divine  sorrow  of  an  angel  who  has  tried  to  become  mortal  for  a  mortal's  sake,  and 
has  failed. 

Dearest,  this  is  a  farewell  and  a  petition.  A  farewell,  for  a  great  battle  is  approaching, 
and  what  one  poor  life  can  do  to  win  it  for  our  country  shall  be  done.  A  petition,  for  I 
see  now,  as  never  before,  the  cytel  wrong  I  did  in  accepting  the  sacrifice  of  your  young 
life,  and  in  giving  it  back  to  you,  as  I  shall  do  in  my  death,  I  ask  you  to  bestow  it,  here- 
after, where  your  heart  dictates.  Become  his  wife,  dear  child,  without  too  much  regret  for 
him  who  should  never  have  stood  between  you,  and  be  sure  that  such  peace  as  my  here- 
after may  know,  is  doubled  by  the  assurance  of  your  happiness. 

Nor  fancy,  tender  conscience,  that  you  have  wronged  my  love  by  showing,  even  to  my 
eyes,  the  love,  not  for  me,  filling  your  pure  heart.  Love  such  as  yours,  Neria,  is  of  God, 
and  as  holy  and  as  sacred  as  all  his  gifts.  You  have  subdued  and  hidden  it,  because  the 
unholy  bond  between  us  two  forced  you  to  do  so,  but  had  there  been  sin  and  shame  in  its 
existence,  that  sin  and  shame  should  have  been  mine,  not  yours. 


CIPHER.  151 

Now  you  are  free,  or  shall  be  soon,  and  let  the  future  recompense  the  past.  But  at 
the  last,  O  love  and  life,  hear  me  say  that  never  one  thought  of  blame,  never  one  reproach 
for  you  has  sullied  my  heart.  Chief  among  women  I  have  loved  you,  chief  among  women 
I  have  reverenced  you,  and  do  now,  and  shall,  as  I  go  out  alone  to  fight  and  die,  and  win 
for  myself  the  peaceful  rest  of  a  struggle  past,  the  sweet  dark  night  of  the  toilsome  day. 

As  Neria  read  and  read  again  these  tender  words,  and  felt  the  noble  heart 
throb  through  them  its  devotion,  its  trust,  its  heroic  abnegation,  her  own  heart 
stirred  within  her  as  it  never  yet  had  stirred.  Again  and  again  she  read  them 
until  her  eyes  shown  bright,  and  her  cheeks  burned  scarlet  with  the  fire  of  a 
wild  emotion. 

"You,  you  yourself,  my  king !  'Not  Launcelot  or  another,'"  murmured 
she,  pressing  the  letter  to  her  brow,  her  heart,  her  lips.  And  then  the  passion- 
ate words  of  the  great  Idyl  sprang  to  her  lips,  and  with  the  guilty  queen  she 
cried 

Is  there  none 

Will  tell  him  that  I  love  him  though  so  late? 
Now,  ere  he  goes  to  the  great  battle  ? 

But  at  that  woful  word,  the  new-born  human  love  gave  way  to  human  grief 
and  terror,  and  Neria,  for  the  first  time  in  her  married  life,  felt  her  heart  shrink 
with  the  sudden  fear  that  Vaughn  might  die  and  leave  her  desolate, 

"  Not  before  he  knows  that  I  love  him,  not  before  my  lips  have  told  him  so ! 
O  God,  not  so  !  "  cried  she,  upon  her  knees,  with  hands  and  eyes  upraised  to 
heaven.  When  she  arose  comforted,  it  was  with  a  fixed  resolve.  She  would  seek 
her  husband  were  it  in  the  front  of  battle.  If  he  died  she  would  die  with  him  ; 
if  he  lived  her  love  should  make  life  another  existence  from  what  they  had  either 
of  them  known.  And  then  her  thoughts  went  back  through  her  own  brief  his- 
tory, gratefully  acknowledging  the  tender  affection,  care,  and  honor  with  which 
Vaughn  had  crowned  the  life  he  had  rescued  ;  the  chivalrous  homage  of  his  love, 
the  passionate  devotion,  so  coldly  repaid,  in  the  early  days  of  their  marriage. 
And  now,  at  last,  when  he  had  traversed  hundreds  of  miles  to  greet  her,  perhaps 
for  the  last  time,  to  bid  her,  it  might  be  an  eternal  farewell,  he  had  found  her 
preoccupied,  cold,  reserved.  It  was  the  shadow  of  the  secret,  she  said  to  her- 
self, it  was  the  curse  of  that  old-time  sin  and  misery  pursuing  to  the  third  and 
fourth  generation  the  children  of  those  who  had  so  sinned  and  suffered  ;  and  she 
now  regretted  that  she  had  not  at  once  confided  all  to  Vaughn,  and  by  sharing 
with  him  the  secret  of  her  depression,  prevented  the  misconception  under  which 
he  evidently  labored. 

Still  dreaming,  with  smiling  lips  and  dewy  eyes,  Neria  was  startled  by  two 
soft  arms  laid  tenderly  about  her  neck,  while  Francia's  lips  sought  hers.  "  For- 
give me,  darling ;  say  that  you  forgive  me,"  whispered  she. 

Neria's  arm  about  her  waist  drew  her  to  a  seat  upon  her  lap  as  she  whispered 
back  :  "  How  can  1  forgive  what  has  not  offended  me  ?" 

"  You  should  have  been  offended,  or  at  least  shocked  and  hurt,  at  my  conduct 
ever  since  we  left  Mrs.  Rhee's  that  day,"  persisted  Francia ;  "but  she  told  me, 
O  little  mother,  she  said  such  things  of  you,  and,  and — some  one." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  know.     And  you  believed  them  ?  " 

"  No,  O  Neria,  I  did  not  believe  ;  but  you  know  I  felt — well  I  felt  differently 
•o  you." 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  know,"  said  Neria  again. 

"  And  then  she  said  papa  believed — " 

"You  should  have  done  your  father  more  honor  than  to  believe  that  he  be- 
lieved," said  Neria,  quietly. 


152  CIPHER. 

"  I  know  it ;  but  at  first — and  then,  Neria,  she  told  me  something  else — 
something — " 

The  girl  paused,  and,  drawing  a  little  back,  looked  into  Neria's  face  with  such 
a  dumb  cry  of  appeal,  such  endkss  protest  against  the  burden  fallen  of  a  sudden 
upon  her  untried  shoulders,  that  Neria  caught  her  to  her  heart,  shielding  and 
comforting  her  as  if  she  were  a  little  wounded  child. 

'•  Of  your  mother,  darling  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  of  herself.  O  Neria,  my  father  bought  her  ;  she  was  a  slave.  I 
don't  so  much  mind  the  negro  blood  ;  but  I  come  of  a  race  of  slaves,  of  women 
who  have  been  bought  and  sold  for  their  beauty,  of  women  who  had  no  right  to 
their  own  consciences,  their  own  honor.  Neria,  Neria,  speak  out  the  truth  ! 
What  can  wipe  away  such  disgrace  ?  How  can  I  ever  feel  myself  what  I  was 
before  ?  How  could  any  honorable  man  ever  trust — " 

She  hid  her  burning  face  again,  and  the  passionate  sobs  that  shook  her  frame 
finished  the  sentence. 

"  Make  yourself  such  a  woman,  Francia,  that  an  honorable  man  shall  in  lov- 
ing you  care  for  no  past ;  shall  trust  the  future  as  he  does  the  present,  because 
to  doubt  it  were  to  doubt  you." 

"  But,  O,  Neria,  can  I  learn  to  be  such  a  woman  ?  Can  I  ever  be  such  a 
woman  that  a  man  would  say,  '  I  trust  you  in  spite  of  all  ? ' " 

"  Yes,  Franc,  such  a  woman  you  can  be,  and  though  the  day  may  never  come 
when  the  man  you  love  best  shall  say  this  to  you,  it  shall  not  be  that  you  do  not 
deserve  it,  but  that  our  destinies  are  not  for  us  to  choose." 

"  You  do  not  think  he  will  ever  love  me,  then  ?  "  broke  from  Francia's  impetu- 
ous lips  ;  but  before  Neria  could  answer,  she  hurried  on  :  "I  don't  mean — that 
is — I  wasn't  thinking  of  what  I  said.  I  have  a  little  note  for  both  of  us  from 
dear  papa.  I  did  not  give  it  you  at  first  because  1  wanted  to  make  up,  and  let 
you  not  have  my  ill  temper  to  trouble  you,  too.  Uncle  Murray  sent  it  down  just 
now.  It  was  directed  to  either  of  us,  so  I  opened  it.  See  !  " 

Neria  took  the  scrap  of  soiled  and  torn  paper  and  read  these  lines,  hastily 
written  in  pencil : 

I  arrive  just  in  time.  My  regiment  is  to  move  in  half  an  hour.  We  shall  be  in  action 
before  night.  A  courier  leaves  for  Washington  at  once,  and  I  write  one  line  to  say  good- 
bye, and  God  bless  you  both.  My  darlings,  He  only  knows  how  I  love  you.  I  leave  you 
each  to  the  other's  care. 

FREDERIC  VAUGHN. 

"  So  soon  !  O,  I  shall  be  too  late  ;  I  shall  not  reach  him  !  O,  Francia,  why 
did  you  not  give  it  me  at  once  ?  I  must  go  to  him  ;  I  must  go  directly  !  If  it 
should  already  be  too  late  !  My  God,  if  it  should  be  too  late  !  " 

Francia  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  Could  this  be  the  calm  and  self-con- 
tained Neria;  this  wild-eyed  creature,  moving,  looking,  speaking  with  an  impet- 
uosity to  which  her  own  stormy  moods  were  calm  ?  And  so  resolute  to  seek, 
even  upon  a  battle-field,  the  husband  whose  danger  and  whose  absence  had  been 
hitherto  so  tranquilly  borne  ?  What  could  it  all  mean  ?  But  almost  before  the 
question  was  formed  Francia's  affectionate  nature  had  set  it  aside  for  the  more 
pressing  need  of  sympathizing  with  and  comforting  even  an  undue  affliction. 

"  I  will  go,  too,  Neria,  darling,  if  you  must  go,"  said  she,  beginning  with  busy 
hands  to  arrange  the  clothes  in  a  travelling  sack  that  Neria  was  already  packing. 

"  Come,  then,  but  hurry  ;  for  every  moment  is  a  life  now  !  "  said  Neria,  ring- 
ing the  bell  violently  to  give  the  order :  "  Tell  John  to  harness  the  horses  as 


CIPHER.  153 

quick  as  possible  to  drive  me  to  Carrick,  and  send  Mrs.  Barlow  to  me  imme- 
diately." 

A  few  moments  later,  the  two  young  women  were  on  their  road  ;  and  that 
evening,  as  Mr.  Murray  and  Fergus  sat  at  their  unsocial  tea-table  they  were 
startled  by  the  intelligence  that  Mrs.  and  Miss  Vaughn  were  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  would  like  to_see  the  elder  gentleman  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Both  answered  the  summons  ;  both  heard  in  silent  astonishment  the  hurried 
announcement  that  Colonel  Vaughn's  wife  and  daughter  were  about  to  seek  him 
upon  the  field  of  battle,  and  each  replied  in  his  own  way — the  father  by  a  com- 
passionate smile  and  a  shake  of  the  head  so  courteous  as  to  be  almost  an  affirm- 
ative, the  son  by  the  curt  remark : 

"  I  should  think  you  were  out  of  your  senses,  both  of  you.  It  is  perfectly 
impossible." 

"  I  must  try  it.  I  must  see  my  husband  at  all  hazards,"  exclaimed  Neria, 
feverishly,  turning  from  one  to  the  other  with  hands  clasped  in  uncoiisciou* 
appeal. 

"  if  it  could  be  done  at  any  hazard,  however  great,  Neria,  you  should  try  it, 
and  I  with  you,"  said  Fergus,  coming  close  to  her,  and  taking  the  clasped  hands 
in  his  ;  "  but  we  might  not  even  be  allowed  to  try.  It  would  be  impossible  for 
any  but  a  military  man  or  a  government  agent  to  obtain  a  pass  to  the  front  now, 
and  without  one  we  should  be  turned  back  before  we  were  within  ten  miles  of 
the  scene  of  action.  It  is  quite  impossible,  believe  me.  Do  you  not  say  so,  sir  ? " 
'  "  Of  course,  of  course  ;  Fergus  is  entirely  correct,  my  dear,  and  you  can  only 
submit.  In  a  few  days,  or  whenever  hostilities  cease,  it  is  very  possible  some- 
thing may  be  done ;  but  at  present  it  is  quite,  O  quite  out  of  the  question," 
replied  Mr.  Murray,  in  his  silkiest  manner,  but  with  a  determination  in  his  cold 
eyes  that  smote  Neria  with  dismay. 

"Quite  impossible  ?"  echoed  she,  despairingly. 

"  Quite,  my  dear  Mrs.  Vaughn.  In  fact,  the  telegraph  announces  to-night 
that  action  has  already  commenced  with  the  right  wing  of  our  army  ;  and  long 
before  you  could  reach  even  Washington  the  whole  force  will  have  marched  and 
countermarched,  have  moved  this  way  and  that,  hither  and  yon,  a  dozen  times. 
If  my  life  depended  upon  it,  absolutely  my  life,  madam,  I  would  not  undertake 
to  find  Colonel  Vaughn  until  this  battle  is  well  over." 

Neria's  head  dropped  upon  her  breast.  "And  when  it  is  over,.he  will  be 
where  I  shall  never  find  him  !  "  muttered  she. 

The  cool-blooded  old  man  could  not  hear  the  words  ;  but  even  he  could  not 
see  unmoved  the  despairing  attitude,  the  vvoful  face  of  one  so  fair,  so  young,  so 
delicately  nurtured.  He  laid  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  the  dry  white  fin- 
gers quivered  with  a  motion  that  was  almost  a  caress. 

"  Don't  be  so  much  disappointed,  my  dear,"  said  he,  kindly,  "Vaughn  will  be 
at  home  again  before  long,  and  that  will  pay  for  all." 

Neria  looked  vacantly  in  his  face,  and  turned  to  Fergus.  "  And  do  you  refuse 
to  help  me,  too,  Fergus  ?"  asked  she,  unconsciously  using  as  a  weapon  in  her 
extremity  the  very  ove  whose  confession  she  had  so  sharply  rebuked  a  few  hours 
before. 

"  Refuse  you,  Neria  ?  "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  passionately  ;  "  it  is  not  I, 
it  is  the  fact  that  refuses  you.  I  would  do  more  than  you  think  to  satisfy  you, 
if  it  were  possible  ;  but  it  is  not.  You  can  only  wait." 

"Wait!  But  while  I  wait  he  will  be  killed;  and  then—"  She  looked  at 
him,  at  his  father,  at  Franeia.  In  every  face  she  read  denial,  and  a  1  the  pitj 


154  CIPHER. 

and  the  .ove  covering  it  could  not  assuage  the  sharp  pang  that  pierced  her  heart, 
the  bitterness  as  of  death  borne  in  upon  her  soul  by  the  mocking  echo,  '•  Too 
late  !  too  late  !  " 

To  return  to  Bonniemeer  in  this  uncertainty  was  impossible  ;  and  for  the 
next  four  days  the  two  ladies  waited  under  Mr.  Murray's  roof  for  the  almost 
hourly  bulletins  flashed  over  the  wires  from  the  scene  of  action,  and  regularly 
brought  to  them  by  Fergus,  even  before  the  public  could  receive  them. 

At  last  came  the  victory ;  but  victory  or  deteat  were  one  to  Neria  in  the  ter- 
rible anxiety  devouring  her.  The  returns  from  the  regiments  arrived,  and  hour 
by  hour  Fergus  came  with  cheery  step  to  say,  "  No  bad  news  yet,  Neria."  At  last 
he  did  not  come  until,  as  the  suspense  grew  intolerable,  and  Neria«was  about  to 
venture  forth  to  seek  him,  she  heard  him  slowly  ascending  the  stairs.  She  met 
him  in  the  doorway,  looked  into  his  marble  face  and  pitiful  eyes,  and  crying, 
"Too  late  !  too  late  !  "  sank  swooning  at  his  feet 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

TWO   STORIES. 

A  WEEK  later,  Fergus  returning  from  "  the  front "  with  a  companion,  brought 
him  to  Bonniemeer,  and  into  Neria's  presence. 

"This  is  Reuben  Brume,"  said  he,  introducing  him.  "  He  was  close  beside 
my  uncle  when  he  fell,  and  he  will  tell  you  all." 

Neria  raised  her  dim  eyes  to  the  sergeant's  agitated  face.  "  Please  tell  me 
everything  you  can  remember  of  him,"  said  she,  simply. 

"  Well'm,  the  kunnel  seemed  as  chirk  that  morning  as  ever  I  see  him.  I 
took  particular  notice,  as  we  come  in  sight  of  the  enemy,  and  he  turned  round  to 
cheer  us  on,  how  bright  his  eyes  was,  and  how  his  mouth  shet  together  as  if 
there  wouldn't  be  no  two  ways  of  settling  with  him  that  day.  He  didn't  say 
much,  only  told  us  to  remember  any  one  of  us  might  be  the  man  to  save  his 
country,  and  he  told  us  to  fight  for  them  we  loved  at  home,  who  was  a  praying  for 
our  success,  and  then  he  sung  out  "  Charge  !  "  and  we  went  in.  What  come  next 
I  couldn't  say  particuler.  The  blood  sort  of  got  into  my  head  like  it  does  in  a  wild 
creter's,  and  I  just  let  drive  right  and  left  on  my  own  hook  'thout  noticing  the  rest 
on  'em,  till  I  found  myself  right  cheek  by  jowl  with  the  kunnel.  Lord  !  how  he  did 
fight !  He  slashing  away  at  a  big  fellow,  a  captain,  I  guess  it  was,  any  way,  an 
officer,  who  was  slashing  away  again  at  him,  and  the  two  mated  so  equal  there's 
no  knowing  who'd  have  had  the  best  of  it,  when  up  come  a  big  brute  behind  the 
officer  and  with  a  yell  and  a  cuss  druv  his  bay'net  square  through  the  kunnel's 
breast,  through  the  very  heart  of  him,  I  reckon,  for  he  just  throwed  up  his  arms 
and  staggered  back  with  one  mortial  cry,  and  was  dead  'fore  he  reached  the 
ground.  No  one  heerd  that  cry  but  me  ;  but  1  did — it  was  your  name,  ma'am." 

Reuben  Brume  stopped  and  turned  his  face  away ;  but  though  tears  rained 
down  his  bronzed  cheeks,  and  Fergus  was  fain  to  hide  his  face,  Neria's  eyes 
glittered  cold  and  bright  as  winter  stars,  and  her  voice  was  unshaken  while  she 
asked:  "  And  his  body  ?" 

"  It  had  to  be  left  there,  ma'am.  It  wasn't  a  minute,  hardly,  just  time  for  me 
to  smash  in  that  rascal's  skull  with  the  breech  of  my  gun,  which  my  bayonet 
was  lost ;  when  the  order  came  to  fall  back  behind  the  batteries.  Before  night 
we'd  fell  back  five  mile,  and  though  we  beat  'em  in  the  end,  the  place  where  the 
kunnel  fell  was  fur  within  their  lines.  The  gineral  asked  leave  to  send  in  and 
bury  our  dead,  but  they  refused  ;  they  said  they  buried  'em  themselves,  but — " 

"  Colonel  Vaughn  was  dead  when  he  fell  ?  "  interposed  Fergus,  hurriedly. 

"Yes,  I'm  sartain  sure  he  was,"  asserted  he,  stoutly.  "The  bay'net  went  in 
!ust  about  here,  and  that's  right  over  the  heart,  and  he  wouldn't  have  fell  as  he 
did  unless  it  had  been  a  mortial  wound.  It  touched  the  life  for  sartain,  ma'am, 
and  he  never  suffered  no  more  after  that.  His  eyes  was  shut,  and  his  face  turn- 
ing white,  in  the  last  glimp  I  caught,  just  as  we  was  falling  back,  and  the  enemy 
piling  along  after  us." 

"  Over  the  bodies  of  the  fallen  ?  "  asked  Neria  again,  in  that  icy  voice. 

"  Well'm,  I  guess  they  didn't  stop  to  pick  their  way  much,  that's  a  fact," 
assented  Reuben,  reluctantly  ;  and  Neria  turned  her  stony  face  toward  the  win- 
dow and  seemed  to  gaze  at  the  far-off  sea,  smiling  and  dimpling  in  the  gorgeous 
hues  of  sunset. 

At  a  sign  from  Fergus  the  soldier  followed  him  silently  from  the  room,  and 
from  the  house,  and  a  few  days  later  shipped  on  board  a  whaler  for  a  long  voy- 
age, so  careful  was  Fergus  to  remove  from  Neria's  path  all  that  might  remind 
her  of  her  loss. 


156  CIPHER. 

It  was  the  depth  of  an  autumnal  night.  Driven  before  the  hurrying  wind  the 
bewildered  clouds  drifted  hither  and  thither,  now  huddling  in  massive  groups, 
now  breaking  and  fleeing  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  heavens  only  to  gather 
again,  again  to  flee.  The  late  moon  rising  through  one  of  these  cloud-banks 
looked  out  upon  the  scene,  tipped  with  silver  the  crested  ocean  waves,  flaunted 
her  banner  across  the  combat  of  wind  and  forest,  and  fell  like  a  benediction 
upon  the  golden  harvest  fields  already  ripe  for  the  reaper.  But  from  one  field 
the  blessed  moonlight  shrank  affrighted,  upon  one  harvest  fell  no  benediction, 
but  rather  a  curse;  for  when  climbing  the  mountain  behind  it,  the  moon  hung 
where  she  might  view  it  well,  she  hid  her  face  and  all  earth  remained  in  dark- 
ness. It  was  a  bloody  battle-field,  it  was  the  harvest  of  a  violent  and  cruel  death. 

And  yet  the  dying  and  the  dead  were  not  sole  possessors  of  the  field,  for  as 
the  moon  hurrying  from  the  refuge  of  one  cloud  to  that  of  another,  shot  a  wild 
flood  of  light  upon  the  scene,  a  human  figure  stole  from  the  covert  of  the  wood 
and  crossed  rapidly  to  the  centre  of  the  field,  where,  sheltered  behind  a  rampart 
of  lifeless  bodies,  lay  the  tall  and  stalwart  figure  of  a  man  still  grasping  a  broken 
sword,  while  on  his  breast  lay  congealed  the  blood  that  had  flowed  from  well- 
nigh  a  mortal  wound.  He  was  alive,  for  in  a  death-pale  face  shone  two  resolute 
dark  eyes,  moving  slowly  from  side  to  side  as  if  to  recall  the  scene  or  speculate 
upon  the  chances  of  help. 

Between  these  wistful  glances  and  the  sky,  came  the  dark  figure  of  a  man 
stooping  to  peer  into  the  face  of  the  wounded  officer,  who  in  seeing  it  involun- 
tarily closed  his  eyes  and  shrank  a  little,  brave  soldier  though  he  was,  in  think- 
ing that  the  knife  of  an  assassin  and  a  thief  was  to  end  the  life  just  creeping 
back  to  his  frozen  heart.  But  it  was  no  assassin's  hand  raising  that  fallen  head 
to  a  fairer  position,  no  assassin's  voice  muttering, 

"  It's  he,  sure  enough,  but  be  he  dead  or  not  is  more  than  I  can  say.  Mas- 
ter, be  you  alive  ?" 

Colonel  Vaughn's  eyes  opened  wearily,  and  his  white  lips  whispered,  "James  ! 
Is  it  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  main  glad  to  find  you  alive,"  replied  the  faithful  servant,  who 
having  followed  his  master  to  the  battle-field  as  he  would  upon  any  other  expe- 
dition, made  the  cause  in  which  he  fought  quite  subsidiary  to  the  service  that 
had  led  him  into  it. 

"  How  came  you  here  ?"  whispered  the  white  lips  again. 

"  Why,  sir,  I  saw  you  go  down,  and  then  our  men  fell  back,  as  they  called  it, 
I  should  say  ran,  and  the  others  after  them  ;  but  my  lookout  was  to  keep  rear 
you,  sir,  to  help  you  if  you  was  alive,  and  to  bury  you  if  you  was  dead.  So, 
passing  through  a  wood  back  here  about  a  mile,  I  just  swarmed  up  a  thick  tree 
and  waited  till  they'd  gone  by,  both  lots  of  'em.  Then  I  waited  a  spell  longer 
till  it  was  dark,  and  then  made  my  way  back  here.  When  the  moon  rose  I  took 
a  squint  over  the  field  and  made  out  pretty  nigh  where  you  lay,  and  so  come 
across,  and  here  I  be." 

"  Faithful  fellow.     But  I  will  die  here,"  murmured  Vaughn. 

"No,  sir,  you  won't,  if  I  may  be  so  bold.  I'm  a  bit  of  a  surgeon  myself, 
'specially  since  I  was  in  hospital  last  month,  and  I'm  going  to  bind  up  your 
wound  and  then  carry  you  on  my  back  to  a  shanty  up  on  the  mountain  yonder. 
There's  an  old  black  fellow  lives  there  who's  got  the  name  of  a  wizard  among 
the  country  folks.  I  heard  all  about  it  from  one  of  our  contrabands,  but  if  he's 
the  old  boy  himself  he  shall  take  you  in  and  do  for  you,  and  when  you  can  move 
we'll  make  a  push  for  camp." 


CIPHER. 


157 


"  Wait.  You  shall  not  stir  me  from  this  place,  James,  until  you  promise  to 
obey  my  orders." 

"  Yes,  sir.     Of  course,  sir." 

"  You  are  not  to  tell  this  negro  my  name.  Tear  off  my  shoulder-straps,  that 
he  may  not  know  my  rank.  If  I  die,  bury  me  here,  and  go  home  to  tell  my  wife. 
If  I  recover  I  shall  volunteer  as  a  private  under  another  name.  Meantime  call 
me  John  Brown,  and  say- 1  am  your  brother.  You  will  do  all  this  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  if  you  say  so,  of  course,"  assented  the  groom,  somewhat  reluc- 
tantly, but  too  well  trained  to  express  surprise  or  ask  an  explanation  of  what 
seemed  an  unaccountable  whim  upon  his  master's  part. 

"  Support  me,  and  I  think  I  can  walk.     Have  you  a  little  brandy  ?  " 

"  Here  is  your  own  flask,  sir  ;  it  is  filled  with  better  stuff  than  they  give  us," 
said  James  ;  and  after  swallowing  the  cordial,  Vaughn  rose  to  his  feet,  and, 
leaning  heavily  upon  the  shoulders  of  his  faithful  servant,  slowly  crossed  the 
field  of  death,  and  was  presently  lost  in  the  rustling  shadows  of  the  wood. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE      DARK      HOUR. 

THE  days  and  the  weeks  and  the  months  moved  on.  The  golden  autumn 
gave  way  to  the  majesty  of  winter,  winter  softened  beneath  the  kiss  of  spring, 
like  a  hard  old  king  in  the  embrace  of  his  girlish  bride  ;  spring  ripened  into  the 
tranced  glow  of  summer,  and  Neria's  widowed  heart  mourned  day  by  day  more 
passionately,  and  more  remorsefully.  Remorsefully,  for  upon  that  delicate  con- 
science lay  the  burden  of  a  noble  life  sacrificed  to  her  ingratitude.  Not  one  of 
the  weary  days,  not  one  of  the  fearsome  nights  since  the  news  of  Vaughn  s 
death,  but  she  had  told  herself  that  it  was  for  love  of  her,  for  sorrow  at  her  cold- 
ness, and  remorse  at  the  bonds  he  had  placed  upon  her,  that  he  had  gone  to  his 
death  so  resolutely — that  death  and  he  could  not  fail  to  meet.  Day  and  night  she 
bowed  herself  before  God  and  before  His  spirit  for  pardon  and  comfort,  and  day 
and  night  she  rose  uncomforted,  for  as  the  flow  of  Heavenly  love  warmed  and 
expanded  her  heart,  came  with  it  the  fresh  consciousness  of  the  earthly  passion 
sprung  full-grown  to  life  within  her  soul,  and  clamoring  aloud  for  the  food  she 
could  not  give  it. 

And  Francia,  the  bright,  the  loving,  the  joyous  Francia  mourned  also. 
Mourned  the  father  she  had  adored,  the  joy  that  had  passed  from  her  life  and 
from  her  home  ;  mourned  her  own  wasted  youth  and  wasted  heart ;  foi  this  is 
the  cruel  nature  of  a  great  sorrow,  that  it  does  not  absorb  and  negative  the 
other  sorrows  preoccupying  the  heart  where  it  comes  to  dwell,  but  rather  stings 
and  quickens  them  to  new  life,  inhabiting  with  them  not  in  peace  or  in  harmony, 
but  with  a  bitter  fellowship. 

To  these  two  in  their  seclusion  came  occasionally  Fergus  or  his  father,  with 
news  of  the  great  world,  its  battles,  its  progress,  its  interests,  or  its  gossip. 
Thus  they  knew,  or  might,  if  they  had  cared  to  listen,  how  the  elections  went ; 
how  England  and  France  stood  waiting,  one  at  either  hand,  to  side  with  the 
stronger  against  the  weaker  party,  so  soon  as  victory  should  clearly  declare  it- 
self in  the  family  quarrel  they  so  eagerly  watched  ;  how  gold,  and  with  it  bread, 
and  fuel,  and  clothes,  rose  day  by  day  out  of  the  reach  of  those  who  most  needed 
them. 

Heard,  too,  how  Claudia,  the  gayest  of  the  gay,  shone  starlike  at  all  the  fes- 
tivities ot  not  only  her  own  city  but  the  other  great  capitals  of  the  country,  and 


158  CIPHER. 

how,  while  her  husband  buried  himself  to  the  lips  in  the  gold  the  misfortune* 
of  the  land  was  pouring  into  his  coffers,  Queen  Claudia  was  forever  surrounded 
by  a  cloud  of  courtiers  and  slaves  whom  she  managed  so  well  that  rumor  found 
no  one  among  them  to  honor  with  the  preference.  And  the  hard  old  man,  her 
father,  in  whose  heart  a  certain  admiration  for  this  brilliant  and  evil  child  re- 
placed all  other  emotions  of  tenderness  to  his  kind,  rubbed  his  dry  white  hands, 
smiled  a  covert  smile  and  said, 

"  Claudia  is  a  clever  girl,  a  very  clever  girl.  She  enjoys  herself  and  spends 
Livingstone's  money  after  her  own  fashion,  but  the  world  finds  nothing  to  take 
hold  of.  A  cool  head,  and  a  cool  heart,  too,  has  Mrs.  Livingstone." 

But  of  all  these,  one  subject  alone  had  interest  for  Neria,  and  this  was  the 
war.  Since  Vaughn's  death  the  only  link  holding  her  to  earth  had  seemed  to 
be  the  cause  in  which  he  died.  She  read  all  the  news,  listened  to  all  the  details 
brought  her  by  the  Murrays,  traced  through  the  desolate  southern  land  the 
progress  of  our  armies,  but  more  especially  the  corps  containing  Vaughn's  reg- 
iment, whispering-  to  herself, 

"  He  would  have  been  here  now,"  or  "  They  need  not  have  made  this  retreat 
had  he  been  with  them,"  and  so,  half  persuading  herself  that  he  was  still  identi- 
fied with  the  great  struggle,  she  identified  herself  with  it  not  only  in  interest, 
but  by  contributing  of  the  means  at  her  command,  so  liberally  as  to  call  down 
the  censure  of  her  advisers,  and  a  recommendation  on  more  than  one  occasion 
from  Mr.  Murray  to  regulate  her  donations  somewhat  upon  the  scale  of  those 
of  other  and  wealthier  patriots.  But  Neria,  gentle  and  yielding  in  most  matters 
of  business,  was  here  inexorable,  saying,  with  serene  decision, 

"  We  need  but  little  here  at  Bonniemeer,  and  all  the  rest  goes  to  help  his 
armies  and  his  fellow-soldiers." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


IT  was  the  twilight  of  a  summer's  day,  and  Neria,  from  the  shore  beneath 
the  ruins  of  Cragness,  watched  the  curving  waves  slide  up  the  sands,  watched 
the  glory  dying  from  the  western  sky,  watched  the  faint  light  of  the  young  moon 
creeping  down  the  wall  and  peering  into  the  chasm  whence  had  fled  upon  that 
fearful  evening  the  secrets  of  the  gloomy  old  home  of  her  fathers. 

The  sound  of  horses'  feet  upon  the  sands  broke  upon  her  revery,  and,  look- 
ing around,  she  saw  Mr.  Livingstone  dismounting  from  a  carriage  driven  by  one 
of  her  own  servants  ;  and  rising  hastily  went  toward  him,  smitten  with  a  sudden 
terror  by  the  pallor  of  his  usually  florid  face  and  the  gleam  of  his  restless  eyes. 

"  Mr.  Livingstone  !  " 

"  It's  me,  Mrs.  Vaughn." 

Their  hands  met,  and  Neria's  eyes  asked  the  question  her  lips  could  not  form. 

"  Yes'm,"  replied  her  visitor,  nervously  wiping  the  forehead  where  great  drops 
of  perspiration  gathered,  although  the  night  wind  was  blowing  fresh  and  cool — 
"yes'm,  it's  me,  and  I've  come  to  you  for  help.  O,  Neria,  she's  gone,  she's — " 

His  white  lips  quivered,  and  he  stopped  to  swallow  a  great  sob,  while  the 
clammy  drops  upon  his  forehead  broke  out  afresh. 

"  She's  gone  ? — who  ?"  asked  Neria,  turning  pale  at  sight  of  his  emotion. 

"  Claudia,  my  wife,  ma'am.  The  woman  that  I've  worked  and  toiled  for  day 
aad  night,  as  you  may  say ;  the  woman  that  hasn't  had  a  want  nor  hardly  a  whim 


CIPHER.  159 

that  hasn't  been  satisfied  ever  since  I  gave  her  my  name.  Money !  she  hadn't 
anything  to  do  but  sign  a  check  ;  and  all  I  had  was  hers,  and  shawls,  and  laces, 
and  diamonds,  and  silks  at  her  will.  She  didn't  like  the  carriage  I  got  her  when 
she  was  married,  and  this  very  last  winter  I  made  her  a  Christmas  present  of  a 
new  one.  She  wanted  her  servants  put  in  livery,  and  livery  it  was,  though  I  lost 
one  of  my  best  customers,  a  New  England  man,  by  the  means.  She  wanted  to 
go  to  New  York  and  Washington  for  the  winter,  and  I  never  said  worse  than 
'  Suit  yourself,  my  dear  ; '  she  wanted  to  go  to  Newport,  and  she  went — " 

"  But  how  is  it  ?  what  has  happened  ? "  asked  Neria,  stemming  the  torrent  of 
words  which  seemed  somewhat  to  relieve  the  over-burdened  heajt  of  the  injured 
husband. 

"She's  gone,  run  off;  and  where,  or  who  with,  or  for  what,  I  don't  know 
more  than  you,"  said  Mr.  Livingstone,  pausing  in  the  act  of  wiping  his  forehead 
again,  and  staring  blankly  into  Neria's  face. 

"  But  what  were  the  circumstances  ?  "  persisted  she. 

"  All  I  know  is  that  three  days  ago  a  letter  from  Newport  came  in  with  the 
morning's  mail,  and  here  it  is.  He  drew  from  his  letter-case  a  note  written  in 
Claudia's  dashing  hand  upon  the  heavily-perfumed  paper  she  affected,  in  these 
words : 

Good-bye,  for  you  will  not  see  me  again.  You  have  been  a  good  master  and  a  good 
servant  to  me,  and  it  was  not  your  fault  that  you  could  not  be  more.  I  forgive  your  stu- 
pidities, and  part  with  you  upon  the  best  of  terms.  No  one  here  suspects  more  than  that 
I  travel  to  New  York  to-morrow ;  so  arrange  a  story  to  suit  yourself. 

"  It  was  just  as  she  says  there,"  continued  Mr.  Livingstone ;  while  Neria 
handed  back  the  note  with  a  look  of  silent  dismay. 

"  I  went  straight  to  Newport,  of  course,  and,  without  letting  on  that  there 
was  any  trouble,  found  that  Mrs.  Livingstone  had  taken  the  boat  for  New  York 
the  morning  before,  leaving  word  with  the  coachman  to  drive  his  horses  back  to 
the  city,  as  she  should  not  return  that  way.  I  went  quietly  round  to  all  the  hotels, 
but  could  not  find  that  anyone  whom  I  could  suspect  had  been  stopping  in  New- 
port, or,  at  any  rate,  had  left  about  that  time.  Several  people  asked,  rather  cu- 
riously, if  I  expected  to  join  Mrs.  L.  at  Newport  ;  and  to  all  I  said  '  No,  1  only 
came  down  to  settle  up  the  bills  and  get  a  mouthful  of  fresh  air.'  Not  a  soul  but 
her  father  and  brother,  and  you  and  I  know  anything  of  it  yet ;  and  if  I  could 
only  find  her  before  it's  too  late  I'd  forgive  her  all — I  would — and  take  her  back 
cheerful." 

"  Would  you  ?  "  asked  Neria. 

"Yes,  I  would;  for  somehow  she's  got  such  a  hold  of  me,  Neria,  it  seems 
as  if  I  could  forgive  her  if  she  cost  me  every  cent  I've  got  in  the  world.  It 
hasn't  seemed  to  me  these  three  days  as  if  I  had  got  anything  to  live  for.  Ac- 
tually, I  didn't  close  a  bargain  with  a  good  Western  customer  yesterday,  though 
I  might  have  with  a  little  more  talk  ;  but,  somehow,  I  didn't  care.  But  where  is 
she,  and  how  am  I  to  look  for  her?  I've  come  to  you  to  know,  for  you  always 
could  do  more  with  her  than  anyone  else,  and  you've  got  a  way  of  looking  right 
into  matters  that  I  never  saw  in  any  other  woman.  Besides  I  don't  mind  you 
knowing  that  my  poor  girl's  gone  astray,  as  I  would  another." 

His  voice  faltered  as  he  spoke  the  last  words,  and  his  anxious  eyes  grew  dim. 
Neria,  shocked  and  pained,  assured  him  that  there  could  be  nothing  she  would 
not  gladly  do  to  aid  him  were  it  possible  to  do  anything,  but  professing  an  ig- 
norance as  entire  as  his  own  of  Claudia's  probable  movements  or  probable  com- 
panion. She  also  agreed  with  him  upon  the  expediency  of  keeping  her  impru- 


160  CIPHER. 

dent,  if  not  guilty  flight  secret  as  long  as  possible,  and,  finally,  she  promised,  at 
Mr.  Livingston's  solicitation,  to  accompany  him  should  he  discover  his  wife's  hid- 
ing place,  and  to  persuade  her  to  accept  the  forgiveness  and  opportunity  for 
amendment  so  generously  offered  by  her  husband. 

With  this  promise  Mr.  Livingston  departed,  refusing  the  hospitality  of  Bon- 
niemeer  even  for  a  night,  as  he  was  eager  to  hear  reports  from  the  detectives  he 
had  already  secretly  put  upon  the  track. 

Toward  night  of  the  next  day,  however,  he  reappeared,  with  an  excitement 
of  manner  and  appearance,  added  to  the  disturbance  of  the  previous  day,  that 
prepared  Neria  for  his  news. 

"  Read  that,  ma'am,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone. 

Mrs.  Vaughn  took  the  clumsily-folded  letter  extended  to  her,  and  read,  in  a 
scrawling  hand : 

Mr.  Livingstone  is  by  this  informed  that  his  wife  and  Doctor  Luttrell  are  stopping  in 
the  farm-house  of  a  man  named  Brown  two  miles  west  of  the  town  of ,  in  the  Cats- 
kill  Mountains.  They  call  themselves  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  and  pass  for  a  new  married 
couple.  The  writer  of  this,  thinking  you  might  like  to  know,  takes  this  way  of  telling  ; 
but  if  you  will  take  his  advice  you'll  let  her  go  for  a  bad  lot. 

"  There  !  What  do  you  say  to  that  ? "  asked  Mr.  Livingstone,  meeting  Ne- 
ria's  grieved  eyes  with  a  look  of  impatient  questioning. 

"  Poor  Claudia  !  "  whispered  Neria. 

"  Yes,  but  she's  run  away  with  that  fellow,  and  she's  passing  for  his  wife  ; 
think  of  that ;  and  this  fellow,  whoever  it  is,  knows  of  it,  and  will  tell  the  whole 
world.  Then  think  of  me  showing  my  face  on  'Change  afterward.  I'll  have  the 
law  of  him,  if  there's  law  in  the  land.  I'll  have  damages  out  of  him.  I  promise 
you — good  rousing  damages,  too — if  there's  such  a  thing  as  a  judge  and  jury  to 
be  had,  and  I  wouldn't  mind  a  thousand  dollars  divided  round  among  'em  either, 
if  they  couldn't  do  me  justice  without." 

"  But  yesterday  you  said  you  would  forgive  her — you  said  you  would  take  her 
back  if  she  would  come."  pleaded  Neria,  gently. 

"Yes,  but  that  was  before  I  knew  she  was  actually  living  with  another  man — 
Mrs.  Smith,  indeed  ! — and  before  I  knew  this  fellow  who  writes  the  letter  knew 
about  it.  He'll  tell  every  one  he  knows,  you  see  ;  there's  where's  the  rub." 

"  Perhaps  not.  He  seems  to  wish  well  to  you  by  writing  at  all ,  and  he 
surely  would  see  that  the  way  to  serve  you  is  to  keep  the  matter  as  quiet  as  pos- 
sible." 

"  If  I  only  knew  who  it  was  I'd  let  him  set  his  own  price  to  keep  it  quiet, 
and  pay  it  down,  too,"  mused  Mr.  Livingstone,  unable,  more  than  the  wily  Wai- 
pole,  to  conceive  of  a  man  without  a  price. 

"  But  Claudia  ?  will  you  still  forgive  and  shield  her  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  It's  worse  than  I  thought.  Living  with  another  man,  and 
she,  such  a  figure  of  a  woman,  to  fling  herself  away  like  that  !  Poor  thing ! 
where'll  she  get  her  velvets  and  laces  now,  I  wonder.  That  fellow  isn't  worth 
ten  thousand  dollars,  for  all  the  fine  property  he  got  with  his  wife.  That  went 
like  water  as  soon  as  she  was  dead.  Poor  Claudia ;  but  it  serves  her  right,  it 
serves  her  right." 

Neria  looked  at  him  in  perplexity,  uncertain  whether  to  pity  or  to  turn  from 
him  ;  but  the  struggle  was  a  brief  one.  "  Let  us  go  and  find  her,  and  on  the 
way  we  will  speak  of  what  we  shall  say  to  her,"  said  she,  with  the  angelic  voice 
and  look  no  one  yet  had  ever  resisted.  And  Mr.  Livingstone,  softened  and 
refined  in  spite  of  himself,  yielded  to  her  gentle  bidding. 


CIPHER.  161 

Arrived  at  their  destination  Mr.  Livingstone  left  Neria  at  the  little  inn  while 
he  made  cautious  inquiries  as  to  the  whereabout  of  Mr.  Brown's  farm-house  and 
the  character  and  appearance  of  his  boarders.  He  returned  after  an  absence  of 
several  hours  quite  excited. 

"  I  have  found  her,"  exclaimed  he,  coming  close  to  Neria,  and  speaking  in  a 
hoarse,  quick  tone. 

"It  is  a  lonely  sort  of  place,  no  other  house  in  sight,  and  I  looked  round 
among  the  trees  and  bushes  until  I  saw  her  standing  at  a  window.  She  looked 
pale  and  downcast,  and  as  if  she  d  be  glad  to  be  off  her  bargain  if  she  could. 
Poor  girl !  I  can't  but  pity  her,  and  if  she's  humble  and  sorry,  and  we  can  keep 
the  matter  hushed  up,  I  will  hold  to  my  word  and  take  her  home  again.  She's 
a  splendid  creature  at  the  head  of  my  table,  or  receiving  company,  and  if  I  sep- 
arate from  her  there'll  be  a  scandal  at  any  rate." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  she  repents  already — it  must  be  that  she  does,"  said  Neria, 
eagerly.  "  And  by  forgiving  her  you  may  save  a  soul  otherwise  lost." 

"  I'll  forgive  her  if  she  feels  as  she  ought,"  replied  Mr.  Livingstone,  stoutly ; 
"  I've  said  it  and  I'll  do  it.  Of  course,  I  shall  make  my  conditions  ;  she  can't 
be  quite  as  free  with  her  check-book  for  a  while,  and  I  shall  expect  her  to  stay 
at  home  this  winter.  Washington  isn't  a  good  place  for  a  woman  like  her, 
especially  without  a  husband." 

"It  cannot  be  that  she  will  wish  to  go,"  suggested  Neria,  considerably 
shocked  at  the  nature  of  the  conditions  apparently  considered  satisfactory  by 
the  injured  husband. 

"  I  don't  know  that,"  returned  he,  shaking  his  head  ;  "  Claudia  can  hardly  live 
without  society  and  admiration,  and  she's  always  been  where  there  was  the 
most  of  it  to  be  found.  She  won't  like  stopping  in  one  place  ;  but  she's  got  to, 
if  she  comes  back  to  me.  I  shan't  trust  her  further  than  I  can  see  her." 

"  And  yet  you  will  call  her  wife  ? "  broke  involuntarily  from  Neria's  lips. 

"  Under  conditions,  yes.  Why,  she's  no  worse  now  than  a  dozen  women  I 
could  name  who  stand  as  fair  with  the  world  as  Claudia  did  last  week,  or  does 
to-day,  for  that  matter.  Society's  a  queer  sort  of  affair  after  all,  Mrs.  Vaughn." 

"  And  shall  we  go  at  once  to  Claudia  ?  "  asked  Neria,  escaping  from  the  dis- 
cussion. 

"Yes,  they're  harnessing  a  horse — here  he  comes  now.     Are  you  ready  ?" 

"In  one  moment ;  "  and  as  Neria  possessed  the  rare  feminine  virtue  of  count- 
ing but  sixty  seconds  to  a  minute,  she  was  ready  nearly  as  soon  as  her  com- 
panion. 

"  Now,  my  plan  is  this,"  began  Mr.  Livingstone,  as  he  drove  down  the  bowery 
country  road  ;  "  I'll  show  you  the  house  and  let  you  go  in  and  get  over  the  first 
with  the  poor  girl  alone.  She  might  not  feel  quite  so  shamefaced  with  you  as 
with  me,  and  she'd  be  more  likely  to  come  round  to  do  as  she'd  ought  to.  With 
me,  like  enough,  she'd  sort  of  straighten  up  and  think  I'd  come  to  exult  over 
her  and  all  that,  when  goodness  knows  it's  the  last  thought  in  my  head.  But 
she's  a  proud  piece,  and  there's  no  such  thing  as  driving  her.  She's  got  to  be 
coaxed  and  no  one  can  come  near  her  half  so  quick  as  you,  Neria." 

"  I'll  do  my  best ;  but  what  shall  I  say  from  you,  what  offers  or  promises  shall 
I  make  ? "  asked  Neria. 

"  Why,  say  I  know  she's  done  what  she  hadn't  ought  to,  but  I  forgive  her  if 
she's  as  sorry  as  she  should  be.  Tell  her  I'm  lonesome  without  her,  and  she's 
too  handsome  and  too  stylish  a  woman  to  go  the  way  she's  set  out,  and  though 
it's  a  hard  pill  for  me  to  swallow,  still  I  love  her  well  enough  to  overlook  what 


i62  CIPHER. 

she's  done — and — you  fix  out  the  rest  yourself.     You  know  what  a  man  had 
ought  to  say,  and  you  can  say  it  for  me  better  than  I  can  for  myself." 

"  But  if  I  meet  Dr.  Luttrell  ? "  faltered  Neria,  as  she  left  the  carriage. 

"  Tell  him,  if  he's  wise,  to  keep  out  of  my  sight,"  growled  Livingstone.     "  I 
won't   take  the  law  of  him  as  I'd  laid  out  to,  but  if  I  get  hold  of  him  I'll  be  my- 
own  judge  and  jury  ;  yes,  and  executioner,  too,  may  be.     Flesh  and  blood  won't 
stand  everything,  and  though  I'm  a  man  of  peace  I'd  shoot  that  fellow  as  quick 
as  I  would  a  dog." 

With  these  instructions  Neria  walked  slowly  down  the  shady  road,  and 
stood  presently  at  the  door  of  an  old  red  farm-house,  nestling  picturesquely 
among  its  lilacs  and  syringas.  Her  knock  brought  the  blithe-faced  housewife  to 
the  door,  and  as  she  nodded  inquiringly  at  the  visitor,  a  sudden  perplexity  arose 
in  Neria's  mind.  How  should  she  inquire  for  Claudia  ?  She  would  not  use  the 
assumed  name  of  Smith  ;  she  dared  not  speak  the  one  sullied  by  Claudia's  sin. 

"  Won't  you  walk  in,  ma'am  ? "  asked  the  farmer's  wife,  finding  that  her  vis- 
itor did  not  speak. 

"  Thank  you.     I  wish  to  see  the  lady  who  is  staying  with  you." 

"  O,  Miss  Smith.  Yes,  she's  right  in  the  parlor  here.  Come  in."  She 
threw  open  the  door  as  she  spoke,  and  Neria,  entering,  closed  it  behind  her,  for 
already  she  had  caught  the  wild  glance  of  Claudia's  eyes,  and  shielded  her  from 
observation  and  scrutiny,  while  still  she  might. 

"  Claudia  !  "  said  she,  softly  approaching  her,  as  cowering  away,  she  hid  her 
face  in  her  hands. 

"  Claudia  ! "  and  the  gentle  hand  upon  that  bowed  head  fell  like  a  benedic- 
tion. But  the  guilty  woman  shrank  from  that  pure  touch  as  sinners  from  the 
sunlight. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  "  asked  she,  sullenly. 

."  I  want  to  call  you  back  before  it  is  too  late,"  and  Neria  sank  upon  her 
knees  beside  her. 

"  Too  late  !  It  is  too  late  already — too  late  for  anything  but  to  go  on  as  I 
have  begun — "  exclaimed  Claudia,  half  angrily,  half  piteously,  but  suffering  Ne- 
ria to  take  one  of  her  cold  hands  in  hers. 

"  Ah,  no,  dear  Claudia,  it  never  is  too  late  for  us  to  repent  and  amend  ;  never 
too  late  for  God  to  forgive." 

"Us!"  laughed  the  other,  mockingly.  "You  do  well,  Neria,  to  put  your 
name  with  mine.  '  You  who  never  since  your  birth  had  need  of  repentance  or 
amendment,  how  will  you  judge  for  me  ?" 

Neria's  white  lips  quivered  with  the  sharp  pang  at  her  heart,  but  she  an- 
swered bravely — 

"  You  cannot  know  it,  but  my  sin  is  hardly  less  than  yours.  My  whole  life 
is  a  repenting  ;  and,  less  happy  than  you,  God  does  not  offer  me  the  opportunity 
of  amendment." 

"  O,  yes,  you  talk,  you  good  women  talk,  but  you  know  not  what  you  say," 
exclaimed  Claudia,  writhing  nervously  away  from  Neria's  arms.  "  Your  sin  is 
some  fancied  peccadillo,  some  trifle  magnified  by  your  own  conscience,  but  it  is 
not  like  this.  And  forgiveness,  do  you  say  ?  I  do  not  know  much  of  these  mat- 
ters, but  do  you  think,  Neria,  it  could  ever  be  forgotten — I  mean  when  I  am 
dead  ? "  She  spoke  softly,  and  woman  though  she  was,  seemed  half  ashamed 
of  caring  for  what  had  always  been  her  scoff. 

"  Better  than  forgotten — it  shall  be  forgiven  and  washed  away  in  the  blood 
of  the  Redeemer.  '  Though  thy  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  become  white  as 
wool,' "  said  Neria,  solemnly. 


CIPHER.  163 

"  Does  it  say  that  in  the,  Bible  ?  I  havn't  been  happy  for  many  weeks.  I 
ran  away  partly  because  I  couldn't  keep  up  a  smiling  face  and  easy  manner  any 
longer,  but  it  is  worse  to  be  alone,  and — "  she  stopped  and  looked  about  her — 
"  worst  of  all  to  try  and  talk  with  him.  But  you.  Neria,  I  can  trust  to  you. 
You  always  were  so  true  and  good  ;  there  is  something  soothing  about  your  very 
presence.  I  have  longed  for  you  so  ;  but  I  thought  you  would  not  look  at  me. 
O,  Neria,  may  I  ?  " 

She  turned  and  laid  her  head  upon  Neria's  bosom,  clinging  about  her  neck 
>yith  a  pitiful  dependence,  while  she,  her  pale  face  and  beautiful  eyes  irradiated 
with  the  joy  of  an  angel,  who  leads  back  to  the  fold  a  soul  almost  lost  forever, 
bowed  her  cheek  upon  that  regal  head,  and  whispered  such  words  of  promise 
and  pardon  and  love,  as  God  gave  her  to  speak. 

"  But  will  he,  will  my  husband — O,  no,  he  cannot  forgive,  or  shelter  me  from 
the  world,"  moaned  Claudia,  at  last.  "  It  is  too  mach.  I  must  go  away  some- 
where by  myself  and  live  out  my  life  solitary  and  forlorn.  If  I  might  come  to 
you,  Neria ;  but  no,  they  would  not  let  me — I  must  not  contaminate  you.  But  I 
shall  be  so  desolate  !  " 

"Claudia,  I  would  not  tell  you  till  now  ;  but  it  is  he  that  has  sent  me.  It  is 
that  generous  and  forgiving  husband  who  has  bid  me  come  and  say  to  you  that, 
if  you  so  repent  and  amend  that  God  forgives  and  receives  you  back,  he  will  not 
refuse  to  do  likewise.  Can  you  hesitate  in  face  of  such  clemency?" 

"But  can  he  forget  ?     If  he  should  taunt  and  reproach  me  !  " 

"  I  do  not  think  it  of  him  ;  but  even  if  he  should  would  not  such  humbling 
of  your  pride  be  a  light  penance  in  comparison  to  what  you  might  suffer  ? "  asked 
Neria,  with  some  severity. 

"  True,  true  ;  I  ought  to  be  humble,  and  I  will  try ;  but  you  know,  Neria, 
how  ungoverned  I  have  been,"  said  Claudia,  sadly.  "  He  is  generous  and  good 
to  offer  to  pass  it  over,  and  so  shows  himself  above  me  now  ;  but  you  know  it 
has  always  been  I  who  have  looked  down  upon  him." 

"  Perhaps,  dear  Claudia,  if  you  had  done  more  justice  to  the  really  fine  quali- 
ties of  his  disposition  you  would  have  developed  others,  and  learned  to  love  them 
so  well  that  this  could  never  have  been,"  suggested  Neria 

"  Perhaps  ;  but  now  it  is  too  late,"  said  Claudia,  wearily.  "  He  may  pity  and 
forgive,  and  even  receive  me  back  ;  but  if  he  is  a  man  and  human,  he  never  will 
allow  me  the  place  I  held  before." 

"  Do  you  deserve  it?"  asked  the  clear  voice,  severely,  yet'so  pitifully  that  the 
guilty  woman  did  not  shrink  away  as  she  answered,  "  No." 

"  Then,  dear,  should  you  not  take  as  an  unmerited  alms  such  forgiveness 
as  he  tenders  you, ;  and  if  reproach  is  mingled  with  it,  take  that,  too  ;  silently 
if  not  gratefully.  Has  he  not  a  right  to  chide  when  he  passes  by  his  right  to 
punish,  as  he  might  ?  And  if  he,  being  but  human  and  a  man,  should  mingle 
his  pardon  with  the  bitter  draught  of  reproof  and  reminder,  remember,  Claudia, 
that  He  who  is  all  love  holds  out  a  free  and  unqualified  forgiveness  to  all  who 
will  seek  it.  He  will  forgive  you,  Claudia,  and  love  you  none  the  worse,  so  soon 
as  you  shall  ask  Him." 

"  It  is  you  who  must  ask ;  I  dare  not,"  whispered  Claudia. 

"  We  will  ask  together,"  said  Neria ;  and  with  the  simple  words  of  the  peti- 
lion  went  up  to  the  Mercy  Seat  an  offering  of  the  scalding  tears  of  a  true  repent- 
ance— the  pure,  bright  drops  of  a  holy  sympathy,  an  angelic  pity. 

"  Sit  there,  Neria ;  let  me  put  my  head  in  your  lap  and  cry ;  it  will  do  me 
good,"  moaned  Claudia ;  and  Neria  did  not  resist  the  impulse  of  humility  so 


i<54  CIPHER. 

significant  in  the  haughty  sinner.  A  half  hour  passed  thus  ;  and  when  the  sobs 
had  died  away  in  sighs,  and  Claudia,  pushing  back  the  purple-black  masses  of 
hair  from  her  face,  smiled  wanly  up  in  Neria's  face,  she  said : 

"  And  now  I  shall  call  your  husband  to  hear  you  say  what  I  know  you  will 
wish  to  say  to  him." 

"  He — is  he  here  f  "  asked  Claudia  quickly,  while  a  deep  blush  burned  over 
the  face  but  now  so  pale. 

"Yes  ;  and  he  has  waited  all  this  time  to  hear  whether  he  ought  to  see  you." 

"  Then  you  would  not  have  called  him  if—" 

"  If  you  had  been  hard  and  impenitent,  no,"  said  Neria,  quietly.  Claudia 
looked  curiously  at  her. 

"  How  is  it  you  are  so  quiet  ana  so  resolute,  so  sweet  and  so  severe,  all  in 
one  ?  "  asked  she  ;  but  Neria,  with  a  little  smile  and  a  shake  of  the  head,  waived 
the  question,  and  hastened  from  the  house. 

Never  in  his  prosperous  life  had  Mr.  Livingstone  passed  so  anxious  and 
miserable  an  hour  as  that  since  Neria  had  left  him,  and  he  now  came  to  meet 
her  with  a  trepidation  of  manner  very  unlike  his  usual  placid  self-satisfaction. 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  he,  briefly. 

"  She  is  waiting  for  you.  You  will  be  generous  and  gentle  with  her,  I  ana 
sure,"  replied  Neria,  pointing  toward  the  house. 

"  Aren't  you  conning  with  me  ?  "  asked  he,  nervously. 

"  No,  you  had  better  see  her  alone.     I  will  wait  here  for  you." 

"Is  Luttrell  there  ?" 

"  No,  he  has  gone  away  for  some  days." 

"Well  for  him,  and  me,  too,  perhaps.  Wait  here  in  the  shade  of  these  trees, 
if  you  won't  come.  I  shan't  be  long." 

"  Don't  think  of  me,  but  go  at  once,  and  do  not  hurry  back,"  replied  Neria, 
pitying  his  agitation  ;  and  Mr.  Livingstone  with  a  fervent  pressure  of  the  hand, 
silently  followed  her  advice. 

Left  alone  Neria  sat  for  a  while  in  the  shady  nook  selected  for  her  by  Mr. 
Livingstone,  and  then  attracted  by  the  tender  gloom  brooding  in  the  recesses 
of  a  wood,  bordering  on  the  road,  she  wandered  into  it,  satisfied  that  she  should 
see  or  hear  her  companion  whenever  he  might  return.  But  absorbed  in  her  own 
thoughts  she  soon  lost  sight  of  the  road,  and  striking  into  a  woodland  path 
strolled  slowly  along  it,  pausing  now  and  again  to  smile  a  recognition  to  some 
familiar  flower,  or  to  listen  to  the  song  of  some  forest  bird,  lovingly  as  to  the 
voice  of  a  friend.  To  pluck  the  flower  no  more  occurred  to  Neria's  mind  than 
to  kill  the  bird,  or  to  wound  the  friend. 

But  at  its  height  the  harmony  of  this  pastorale  was  broken  by  the  baying  of  a 
hound,  rapidly  approaching,  and  while  Neria  startled,  if  not  frightened,  stood 
pale  and  still,  he  broke  through  the  underbrush  and  sprang  toward  her.  Timid, 
like  most  women,  Neria's  timidity  took  often  the  form  of  a  blind  courage,  and 
she  now  advanced  toward  the  fierce  brute  with  the  "good  dog  !  poor  fellow  !  "  and 
similar  expressions  best  suited  to  the  canine  perception.  The  hound,  evidently 
surprised  at  this  course  of  treatment,  instead  of  the  panic  and  flight  on  which  he 
had  counted,  paused  to  consider  of  it,  and  like  the  woman  who  deliberates  was 
lost,  for  Neria's  little  hand  upon  his  head,  her  eyes  meeting  his,  reduced  him  in 
one  moment  from  her  fierce  antagonist  to  the  humblest  of  her  slaves,  fawning  at 
her  feet,  smiling  up  into  her  face,  and  lavishing  such  caresses  as  she  would  per- 
mit upon  hands  and  cheeks. 

A  sharp  whistle  was  heard  from  the  wood.     The  hound  paused,  hesitated  and 


CIPHER.  165 

listened.  The  whistle  was  repeated,  and  with  an  apologetic  kiss  bestowed  upon 
Neria's  hand,  he  bounded  away,  but  was  met  at  the  turn  of  the  road  by  a  man 
with  a  gun  upon  his  shoulder,  who  called  him  sharply  by  name  and  ordered  him 
to  folio  \  more  closely.  Neria,  already  walking  away,  heard  this  voice,  and  caught 
her  breath  sharply.  It  did  not  need  the  hasty  look  she  involuntarily  cast  behind 
to  assure  her  that  the  gunner  was  Doctor  Luttrell,  the  man  of  all  others  whom 
she  most  wished  to  avoid.  He  had  recognized  her  also,  and  with  a  few  strides 
was  at  her  side,  his  tawny  eyes  glittering,  his  thin  lips  curling  with  malice. 

"An  unexpected  pleasure,  Mrs.  Vaughn.     May  I  hope  that  it  is  mutual?" 

"  It  is  no  pleasure  to  me  to  see  you,  Dr.  Luttrell,  as  you  must  be  well  aware," 
said  Neria,  coldly. 

"  No  ?  Je  suis  desolde;  but  Mrs.  Vaughn  was  ever  cruel — to  me.  I  believe 
Mr.  Murray  is  more  fortunate  in  gaining  her  favorable  regards."  The  insulting 
tone  pointed  the  words,  and  Neria  suddenly  stopped  and  looked  at  him. 

"  It  was  you,  then,  who  wrote  an  anonymous  letter  to  Colonel  Vaughn,"  said 
she,  contemptuously. 

"  Your  sagacity  is  equal  to  your  amiability,  madam,"  replied  Doctor  Luttrell, 
coolly.  "  I  thought  it  as  well,  since  I  had  married  into  the  family,  to  have  -an 
eye  to  the  preservation  of  its  character.  You  will  remember,  my  dear,  that  I 
am  your  brother  by  marriage,  and  in  that  capacity  found  it  a  disagreeable  duty  to 
inform  Colonel  Vaughn  of  the  use  you  were  making  of  his  absence.  I  did  it 
anonymously  to  avoid  disagreeable  explanations  when  he  should  return  home." 

"  Did  you  not  know  him  to  be  dead  you  would  not  dare  acknowledge  such  in- 
famy," exclaimed  Neria,  indignantly. 

"  It  is  true,  then,  that  you  are  a  widow.  Might  I  hope  that  in  time  I  could 
conquer  the  repugnance  with  which  you  have  ever  repaid  the  admiration  I  have 
never  concealed — "  began  Luttrell,  mockingly,  but  Neria  interrupted  him. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you  now  or  ever,"  said  she,  coldly ;  "  except 
to  give  you  a  warning.  Mr.  Livingstone  is  with  his  wife,  and  intends  to  take  her 
home  with  him.  Her  eyes  are  open  to  the  sin  and  shame  of  the  course  to  which 
you  have  tempted  her,  and  she  only  desires  to  escape  another  interview.  You 
will  do  well  to  avoid  the  presence  of  either." 

LuttrelPs  lips  grew  white,  and  his  eyes  sparkted  with  rage  as  he  fixed  them 
upon  Neria's.  "Again  !"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice.  "You  have  dared  cross  my 
path  again,  dared  grasp  at  another  secret  so  nearly  concerning  my  life  and 
honor  ?  " 

"  I  dare  anything  for  the  right,  even  to  meddling  with  Doctor  Luttrell's  hon- 
or," said  Neria,  roused  to  an  impulse  of  bitterness. 

"  It  is  not  safe.  Believe  me,  Neria,  it  is  not  safe.  I  have  a  foolish  admira- 
tion for  your  beauty  and  your  character,  or  you  never  would  have  carried  the 
secrets  that  you  did  from  my  wife's  death-chamber.  I  tried  to  ruin  your  charac- 
ter in  self-defence,  fearing  the  harm  you  might  some  day  do  to  me.  But  you 
had  best  not  tempt  me  too  far." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  Doctor  Luttrell,"  said  Neria,  quietly.  "  And  you  do 
not  speak  the  truth.  The  reason  you  did  not  murder  me,  as  well  as  my  sister, 
was  because  guilt  is  always  cowardly,  and  you  knew  that  I  had  found  you  out. 
I  spared  you  the  ignominy  of  exposure,  because  the  forfeit  of  your  life  could  not 
give  back  hers,  and  you  may  yet  repent  and  amend  as  Claudia  already  does." 

"  Nonsense.  The  reason  you  did  not  give  your  suspicions — for  they  were  no 
more — to  the  world  was,  that  you  could  not  prove  them  ;  and  if  you  could,  would 
not  have  wished  to  introduce  a  gallows  into  the  family  history." 


166  CIPHER. 

Neria  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  silently  turned  away.  He  overtook  and 
detained  her.  "  Stop ;  I  have  something  more  to  say.  You  know  or  suspect 
too  much  of  me  to  be  allowed  to  go  at  large  as  my  enemy.  Be  my  friend,  Ne- 
ria. Keep  my  counsels  and  I  will  repay  you  amply — you  do  not  know  in  how 
many  ways.  Speak  your  heart's  desire,  and  you  shall  have  it,  were  it  even  to 
summon  the  dead  from  his  grave." 

"  Were  you  able  to  perform  even  that  impious  promise  I  would  make  no 
compact  with  you,"  exclaimed  Neria,  indignantly.  "Any  benefit  you  could  ever 
render  were  insufficient  to  bind  me  for  an  instant  as  friend  to  my  sister's  mur- 
derer; my  own  slanderer  ;  Claudia's  seducer.  Go;  and  if  God  gives  you  time, 
repent ;  but  never  think  to  be  other  than  an  object  of  pity  and  abhorrence  to 
me." 

She  moved  decidedly  away,  and  Luttrell,  gasping  with  passion  and  sudden 
hate,  bounded  after  and  grasped  her  brutally  by  the  arm,  but  as  he  did  so  the 
imprecation  upon  his  lips  changed  to  a  cry  of  pain  and  withdrawing  his  hand  he 
clenched  and  shook  it  as  in  agony. 

"  What  is  this  !  "  cried  he,  turning  suddenly  pale,  and  staggering  to  a  seat 
upon  a  fallen  tree. 

His  cry  was  echoed  from  Neria's  lips,  and  as  she  wrench*ed  her  arm  from  his 
grasp  the  golden  serpent  bracelet  fell  from  within  her  sleeve  and  lay  coiling 
among  the  dewy  grass,  its  diamond  eyes  and  ruby  crest  sparkling  with  a  ma- 
licious joy.  The  deadly  purpose  of  Fiemma  Vascetti  had  been  fulfilled,  and  she 
in  her  century-old  grave  rejoiced  at  the  vengeance  wrought  upon  the  enemy  of 
her  house. 

"The  bracelet  !  the  poisoned  bracelet  ! "  cried  Neria,  pale  with  horror. 

"  Poisoned  !  Sorceress  and  murderess,  you  have  wiled  me  to  my  death  ! " 
gasped  Luttrell,  sliding  from  his  seat  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  writhing  and 
moaning,  his  face  livid,  a  light  foam  gathering  upon  his  lips,  his  rolling  eyes 
blazing  with  agony,  and  rage. 

The  hound,  trembling  all  over,  crept  to  his  master's  side,  licked  his  cheek  and 
hand,  and  then,  with  a  piteous  howl,  darted  away  into  the  forest.  Neria  threw 
herself  upon  her  knees  beside  the  dying  man,  her  eyes  dilated  with  horror  but 
shining  with  a  holy  purpose.  "  It  is  not  I  who  have  killed  you,"  said  she, 
solemnly  ;  "  It  is  the  hand  of  God  !  O,  repent,  repent,  before  it  is  too  late  !  Beg 
for  His  almighty  pardon  and  He  will  give  it  you  even  now.  Humble  yourself 
before  Him,  quickly,  before  the  agony  of  death  seizes  you.  We  forgive  you— 
my  sister,  Claudia,  I,  we  all  forgive  you — but  it  is  nothing  unless  you  gain  His 
pardon.  Say  that  you  repent !  " 

"  Why  should  I  mock  at  God  if  there  is  a  God  ?"  gasped  Luttrell,  mastering, 
by  a  terrible  effort,  the  convulsions  trembling  through  his  limbs.  "  If  repentance 
could  avail,  it  should  have  come  sooner.  Say  no  more  of  that,  but  listen  ;  I  did 
fcot  mean  to  kill  your  sister.  She  was  the  victim  of  science.  I  had  a  splendid 
theory  of  a  new  mode  of  treatment.  I  experimented  upon  her.  She  could  not 
have  lived  many  years,  at  any  rate.  She  had  an  incurable  complaint.  I  never 
loved  her,  and  I  did  love  science.  Claudia  would  have  been  none  the  worse  for 
me  if  her  own  nature  had  not  led  her  astray.  I  have  done  you  no  harm. 
Vaughn  lives — I  have  seen  him.  Now  go — I  can  no  longer  master  this  agony. 
O,  my  God,  my  God  !  The  pains  of  hell  have  seized  me  before  the  time  !  Go, 
woman,  go  !  I  will  not  have  you  watch  me  !  Go,  I  say  !  " 

"Say  that  you  repent.  Ask  God's  forgiveness.  One  word,  but  one  word, 
before  it  is  too  late  !  "  persisted  Neria,  her  whole  frame  quivering  with  horror 


CIPHER.  167 

as  she  knelt  beside  him,  one  hand  pressed  convulsively  upon  her  heart,  the  other 
raised  to  heaven. 

'"  Leave  me,  leave  me  !  You  shall  not  see  me  die  like  a  dog.  It  is  too  late,  I 
tell  you — too  late  !  "  gasped  the  dying  man,  his  face  already  grey  with  the  awful 
pallor  of  death. 

"  Too  late  for  human  aid — never  too  late  for  God's  mercy  !  I  will  not  go,  I 
will  not  watch  you,  but-pray  beside  you  till  the  last,"  said  Neria ;  and  with  that 
guilty  soul  went  to  God  such  petitions  for  its  pardon  and  peace  as  Neria  could 
never  have  uttered  had  he  for  whom  she  prayed  less  bitterly  wronged  her  and 
hers. 

The  soul  was  already  sped,  the  prayer  was  ended,  when,  through  the  dim 
arches  of  the  wood,  hastened  toward  the  scene,  a  man,  conducted  by  the  faith- 
ful hound.  At  sight  of  Neria  he  paused,  hesitated,  and  would  have  turned,  but 
was  arrested  by  a  warning  growl  from  the  dog,  who  seized  him  by  the  coat  and 
dragged  him  on. 

Neria  looked  up,  too  stunned  for  surprise.  "  Go  for  help,  James,"  said  she, 
quietly.  "  He  is  dead  already,  and  they  must  carry  him  home.  No,  stay  here, 
and  I  will  go.  She  must  not  hear  it  too  suddenly.  Come  to  me  afterward  with- 
out fail."  , 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  James,  with  taciturn  obedience  ;  and,  leaving  him  stand- 
ing with  the  dog  beside  the  terrible  thing  so  rudely  marring  the  sylvan  beauty 
of  the  scene,  Neria  hurried  away,  hardly  conscious  whither  she  went,  hardly 
conscious  of  the  joy  that,  buried  deep  beneath  this  weight  of  horror,  began 
already  to  sing  in  the  depths  of  her  heart — "  He  lives  !  he  lives  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


FAITHFUL  to  every  duty,  Neria  had  prepared  for  that  terrible  home-coming ; 
had  broken  the  ghastly  tidings  to  Claudia ;  had  seen  that  Mr.  Livingstone  was 
able  and  willing  to  sootlie  the  agitation  into  which  her  passionate  excitement  had 
subsided,  and  had  singly  told  the  story  of  Luttrell's  death  to  the  physician  and 
magistrate  summoned  to  meet  his  dead  body  at  the  farm-house,  before  she 
allowed  herself  a  word  with  James,  who,  with  the  activity  and  tact  of  his  class, 
had  superintended  not  only  the  removal  of  the  body  from  the  forest  to  the  house, 
but  all  the  subsequent  proceedings.  Neria,  released  at  length,  found  him  sitting 
in  a  shady  porch  at  the  back  of  the  house.  She  gave  him  her  hand,  while  her 
eager  eyes,  asked  as  well  before  her  lips  : 

"James,  where  is  your  master  ?" 

"  Up  here,  ma'am,  among  the  mountains.  We  are  camping  in  a  log  shanty 
we  found  there." 

"  But  how — why — :'  She  would  not  ask  what  wifely  pride  told  her  she  never 
should  have  needed  to  ask ;  but  her  magical  eyes  spoke  for  her,  and  the  man 
replied : 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,  except  it  was  the  Colonel's  wishes  that  no  one  should 
know.  He  was  left  for  dead  down  there  in  the  Chickahominy  ;  but  I  found  him, 
and  carried  him  off.  He  was  sick  a  long  spell ;  pretty  nigh  all  winter,  I  might 
say  ;  but  an  old  darkey  and  I  took  care  of  him,  and  finally  he  pulled  through. 
He  hasn't  been  so  as  to  enter  again,  and  he  never  would  have  me  write  a  line  or 
send  a  message  to  anyone.  This  summer  we  came  up  here,  and  have  been  gun- 


i68  CIPHER. 

ning  and  fishing  for  a  living  pretty  much.  I  happened  to  find  out  about  Dr. 
Luttrell  and — and  the  lady,  and  so  I  thought  it  no  more  than  mv  duty  to  let 
Mr.  Livingstone  hear  where  she  was.  I  didn't  say  anything  to  the  Colonel 
about  it,  because  I  thought  he  might  be  disturbed  at  the  chance  of  some  of  the 
family  coming  this  way,  and  think  it  best  to  remove." 

Neria  smiled  slightly ;  for,  indeed,  the  solemn  twinkle  of  James's  eye,  and 
the  elaborate  innocence  of  his  tone,  in  thus  revealing  his  little  plot  for  a  return 
to  civilization  and  identity,  were  too  funny  to  be  resisted.  "  I  will  go  with  you  to 
him,"  said  she,  after  a  moment  of  thought. 

"  It's  a  long  and  rough  way,  ma'am.  Can't  I  take  a  message  or  a  note  to  the 
Colonel,  asking  him  to  come  to  you  ?" 

"No  ;  he  might  not — it  is  better  I  should  go  myself.  Wait  until  I  speak  to 
Mrs.  Livingstone,"  said  Neria  ;  and  James  submissively  answered  : 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ; "  while  in  his  shrewd  heart  he  thought — "  She's  afraid  he'd  be 
off  and  never  come." 

To  Claudia,  Neria  simply  said  she  must  leave  her  for  a  few  hours  ;  and  to  Mr. 
Livingstone  that  she  needed  no  other  escort  upon  her  errand  than  that  of  James, 
whose  appearance  in  this  place  she  did  not  attempt  to  explain.  Absorbed  in 
their  own  emotions,  neither  husband  nor  wife  questioned  or  watched  her,  and 
just  as  the  sun  touched  the  tops  of  the  tallest  forest  trees  Neria  passed  under 
their  shadows,  and  with  a  heart  strangely  vibrating  between  joy  and  fear  followed 
her  taciturn  conductor  toward  the  secluded  hut  where  Vaughn  had  sought  to 
bury  his  broken  life,  his  despairing  love.  The  path  led  by  the  scene  of  the 
morning's  tragedy,  and  when  James  would  have  turned  aside  to  avoid  coming 
within  sight  of  it,  Neria  checked  him."  "  Let  us  go  straight  on,"  said  she,  quietly  ; 
and  as  they  reached  the  place  she  paused  and  gazed  unshrinkingly  at  the  spot 
where  the  corpse  had  lain,  while  in  her  inmost  heart  she  once  more  offered  full 
and  free  pardon  to  the  guilty  soul  thence  sped,  and  prayed  that  even  so  might 
he  be  pardoned  of  God. 

"  Here  is  the  bracelet,  ma'am,"  interposed  James,  thinking  that  must  be  the 
object  of  her  search.  "  I  picked  it  up  this  morning,  and  would  have  given  it  to 
you  before,  but  the  Justice  wanted  to  see  it." 

"Thank  you,  James  ;  we  will  go  on  now,"  said  Neria,  taking  the  bauble  in  a 
reluctant  hand,  and  hastily  putting  it  out  of  sight,  while  its  wicked  eyes,  catch- 
ing a  ray  of  the  setting  sun,  shot  out  a  green  and  crimson  light. 

"  It's  a  very  odd  thing,  ma'am,  that  the  p'ison  should  have  laid  on  that  little 
spear  so  long  and  never  got' shot  out  before,"  pursued  James,  with  respectful  cu- 
riosity. 

"  It  is  very  old,  and  no  one  understood  its  construction.  I  supposed  it  harm- 
less or  I  should  not  have  worn  it,"  replied  his  mistress. 

"  Certainly,  ma'am  ;  and  even  now  I  can't  make  out  how  to  start  it,  or  how 
to  hinder  it.  I  tried  it  all  sorts  of  ways,  and  so  did  the  doctor  and  the  squire  ; 
and  finally  the  doctor  said  he  didn't  believe  it  was  that  killed  him,  or  that  he  was 
p'isoned  at  all.  He  says  he  shall  call  it  apoplexy  in  the  report  he's  going  to 
write  out." 

"  I  am  glad  if  it  is  so,"  said  Neria,  quietly  ;  and  James,  suspecting  the  subject 
a  disagreeable  one,  said  no  more  upon  it. 

The  sun  had  set,  and  the  moon — the  moon  that  a  few  days  before  had  shone 
upon  Neria  through  the  riven  walls  of  Cragness — now  shed  silver  light  upon  her 
head  as  she  stood  just  within  the  edge  of  a  clearing,  half  way  up  the  mountain- 
side, and  looked  at  the  picture  to  which  her  guide  had  silently  pointed  before  he 
left  her. 


CIPHER.  169 

It  was  a  sylvan  lodge,  such  as  hunters  build  of  saplings,  boughs,  and  bark  ;  and 
upon  the  flat  stone  at  Its  door  sat  a  worn  and  haggard  man,  his  chin  resting  upon 
his  hand,  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  as  he  looked  wearily  across  the  sea  of  foliage 
beneath  him  to  the  mountain  peaks  beyond,  gleaming  white  and  strange  in  the 
full  moonlight.  A  lonely  and  a  stricken  man,  said  every  line  of  his  figure,  said 
his  attitude,  and  his  mournful  eyes,  and  yet  a  stately  and  a  gallant  figure  withal. 

But  to  Neria  the  picturesque  side  of  the  scene  could  not  present  itself.  She 
saw  before  her  the  object  of  the  love  that  since  his  reported  death  had  risen  to 
a  vital  passion  ;  the  husband,  whom,  as  she  devoutly  believed,  God  had  given 
back  to  her  incessant  prayers,  if  not  from  the  grave,  at  least  from  a  living  death. 
Heart  and  soul  clamored  for  the  joy  and  rest  of  his  embrace,  his  kiss,  his  full, 
free  pardon  and  love,  and  yet  a  nameless  doubt,  a  womanly  diffidence,  a  Nerean 
shyness  held  her  back,  would  not  let  her  run  to  fall  at  his  feet  as  she  would  have 
done  ;  held  her  trembling  and  wavering  there,  a  sweet  statue  of  some  wood- 
nymph  smitten  with  love  and  awe  at  her  first  sight  of  humanity. 

So,  like  the  spirit  of  the  night,  the  genius  of  the  wood,  she  stood  as  Vaughn 
turned  of  a  sudden  and  looked  toward  her,  looked  long  and  silently,  and  whis- 
pered, half  aloud, 

"  It  is  her  spirit — she  is  dead."  Then,  with  bated  breath  and  measured  step, 
as  one  who  treads  a  holy  place,  he  came  toward  her,  and  she,  blind  and  sick  with 
the  great  joy  swirling  through  her  heart,  stood  mute  and  still  awaiting  him.  A 
few  feet  off  he  stopped,  and  whispering,  ".Neria  !  "  held  out  his  arms,  imploringly 
yet  hopelessly,  as  one  holds  them  toward  the  heavens. 

Then,  with  a  great  sob,  the  fountains  of  her  heart  broke  up,  and  throwing 
herself  into  that  longed-for  embrace,  she  cried  out,  "My  husband  ;  O,  my  love, 
my  lord,  my  all  !  " 

"  Not  dead  !  My  Neria,  mine  at  last,  my  very  wife  ?  "  incoherently  questioned 
Vaughn,  putting  her  away  to  look  into  the  earnest,  tearful  face,  all  flushed  with 
love  and  excitement,  that  so  bashfully,  yet  earnestly,  returned  his  gaze,  and  then 
straining  her  close,  close  and  closer  to  the  sad  heart  that  had  so  longed  to  feel 
her  there.  But  Neria,  struggling  from  his  arms,  slid  to  her  knees, 

"  Say,  say  that  you  forgive  me  for  all  I  have  made  you  suffer,"  murmured  she. 
'•  I  did  not  know  it  then,  but  since  I  have  learned  to  love  I  have  learned  to  feel." 

"  What !  You  will  kneel  to  me  ?  Nay,  then  ;  will  you  now  give  me  the  first 
offence  you  have  ever  offered  ?  Here,  here  in  my  arms,  and  so  near  my  heart  that 
you  may  feel  it  beat  the  echo  of  my  words,  hear  me  say,  sweet  wife,  that  this  one 
moment  repays  the  past  tenfold  ;  that  I  would  not,  if  I  might,  abate  one  moment 
of  that  past  if  so  I  must  aoate  one  instant  of  this  hour.  It  was  right  that  I 
should  wait  and  serve  for  you,  my  rich  reward.  It  could  not  have  been  but  that 
you  must  learn  earth  by  slow  degrees,  my  pure  angel.  I  only  feared  that  you 
should  pine  away  in  longing  for  your  heavenly  home,  and  so  leave  me  desolate  ; 
or  that  love,  when  he  came,  should  point  not  toward  me,  but  to  another — " 

"  Stop,  Sieur !"  and  in  the  bright  eyes,  whence  the  moonbeams  flashed  back 
into  his,  Vaughn  read  for  the  first  time  the  sweet  imperiousness  born  of  a  con- 
scious love.  He  ^miled,  and  would  have  kissed  the  clear,  bright  eyes,  but  Neria 
held  him  back. 

"  By  one  thing  in  all  our  life  you  have  done  me  wrong,"  said  she.  "  You  have 
fancied  that  I,  being  your  wife,  could  love  another  man  !  O,  Sieur,  that  grieved 
me  much." 

"  That,  and  all  the  wrongs  I  have  done  you,  my  fairy  princess,  sprang  from  an 
incapacity  upon  the  part  of  my  grosser  nature  to  comprehend  your  pure  spiritu- 


i/o  CIPHER. 

ality.  But  now,  thank  God  and  Neria,  the  love  in  my  heart  has  reached  to  hers, 
and  across  that  rosy  bridge  sympathies  and  perceptions  shall  travel  so  inces- 
santly from  the  one  heart  to  the  other,  that  we  may  never  say  where  the  sweet  pil- 
grims really  dwell,  the  two  shall  so  become  one  heart.  O,  darling,  is  this  true,  is 
it  real  ?  Can  God  have  been  so  good  to  a  sinful  man  like  me  ?  And  haw  dare 
I  accept  such  gifts,  I  who —  Neria,  here  upon  tin's  lonely  mountain-side,  be- 
fore we  go  back  together  to  the  world  whence  you  have  come  to  claim  me,  I 
must  tell  you  the  errors  and  mistakes  of  my  early  life,  and,  if  it  may  be,  gain 
pardon  both  for  the  concealment  and  for  what  has  been  concealed." 

"  No,  Sieur,  do  not  speak  a  word  of  what  is  past.  I  know  all,  and  I  have 
forgiven  and  forgotten  all.  Chloe,  before  she  died,  told  me  everything ;  and 
Mrs.  Rhee — " 

"  Did  she  see  you  ?" 

"  Yes.  Hush,  Sieur,  she  is  dead,  and  with  her  the  story  of  the  past.  Let 
as  leave  it  all  behind,  and  make  our  home  in  the  future." 

"  But  did  she  speak  to  you  of  what  I  afterward  wrote  ?  "  asked  Vaughn,  anx- 
iously. "  Did  she  tell  you  that  I  believed — " 

"  She  told  me  many  things  which  I  do  not  wish  to  remember  or  repeat.  She 
told  me  that  you  believed  them,  and  it  was  as  if  she  had  told  me  the  ocean  was 
dried  up  and  the  sun  extinguished.  I  knew  you  too  well  even  then  to  believe 
that  you  believed  such  tales  of  me." 

"  True  woman  and  true  wife  !  You  but  did  me  justice  then,  and  yet  I  blush 
to  think  I  could  fancy  even  such  innocent  faithlessness  as  I  did.  But  now  tell 
me,  sweet,  how  you  came  here,  standing  like  a  spirit  in  the  moonlight,  and 
watching  me  with  your  dreamy  eyes,  until  I  thought  you  indeed  a  thing  of  air  or 
water  or  fire,  altogether  fashioned  of  the  elements,  and  inspired  with  the  pure 
soul  of  my  pure-hearted  Neria."  He  drew  her  toward  his  cabin  as  he  spoke, 
and  seating  her  upon  the  great  stone  where  she  had  found  him,  stretched  him- 
self at  her  feet,  gazing  intently  up  into  her  face,  while  she  related  as  briefly  as 
she  might,  the  strange  chain  of  events  that  had  led  her  hither. 

"  And  so  Master  James  was  weary  of  our  incognito,  and  laid  a  little  plot  to 
lead  to  its  discovery,"  said  Vaughn,  gayly.  "I  may  truly  say  to  him,  'Well 
done,  good  and  faithful  servant,'  for  without  his  intervention  I  do  not  know,  my 
Neria,  how  this  tangled  coil  would -have  been  undone.  I  could  never  resolve 
whether  I  should  arise  from  the  dead,  as  it  were,  or  allow  my  name  to  go  down 
to  posterity  among  the  killed  of  the  battle  of  Seven  Oaks.  I  think  the  leading 
idea  was,  to  live  here  in  the  woods  a  sort  of  wild  hunter  life,  until,  at  last,  dying 
I  should  send  for  Neria  to  close  my  eyes,  and  give  me  one  parting  kiss.  I 
always  meant  to  see  you  again,  at  least  once." 

Neria  looked  at  him  with  dim  eyes  and  a  quivering  mouth. 

"  O,  Sieur !  You  must  have  suffered  so  much  before  you  could  come  to 
that !  " 

"  Suffer  ?  What  is  suffering  ?  I  do  not  recognize  the  word  with  my  arm 
about  Neria's  waist,  my  head  upon  her  knee,  her  eyes  looking  love  into  mine," 
whispered  Vaughn,  passionately  ;  and  then,  man-like,  he  proudly  smiled  to  see 
the  rose-tint  mount  her  slender  throat,  flush  her  soft  cheek,  and  faintly  tinge  her 
brow. 

"  Neria,  say  *  I  love  you,  Sieur,'  "  ordered  he  ;  and  Neria,  blushing  yet  more 
brightly,  whispered, 

"  I  love  you,  Sieur;  I  love  you  better  than  my  life,"  and  as  he  kissed  hei 
lips  she  kissed  back  with  the  first  wife-kiss  they  had  ever  formed. 


CIPHER.  171 

CHAPTER  XL. 

A     NO-SAY     AND     A     YES-SAY. 

THE  moon  that  lighted  Neria  on  her  true-love  quest  had  waned  and  faded 
and  a  tender  crescent  hung  in  the  west  when  Francia  Vaughn,  creeping  from  hei 
father's  house  like  a  guiltyj:reature,  stole  through  the  shadowy  garden  and  on 
to  the  wood  beyond,  where  lay  the  mere.  But  once  within  its  friendly  covert, 
and  shielded  from  all  eyes,  even  those  of  the  stars  just  trembling  into  view,  she 
paused,  and  throwing  herself  upon  the  ground,  gave  way  to  a  burst  of  passion- 
ate grief;  grief  of  which  only  an  ardent  temperament,  an  untried  nature,  and  the 
first  vigor  of  youth  is  capable.  Later  in  life  one's  tears  come  more  reluctantly, 
and  from  a  deepei  source,  until  at  last  it  is  its  very  life  that  the  stricken  heart 
distils  in  tears. 

A  firm,  slow  step  came  through  the  wood,  and  Francia,  starting  to  her  feet, 
resolutely  composed  her  face  and  turned  to  meet  Fergus.  He  extended  his 
hand. 

"  I  was  looking  for  you,  Francia,  to  say  good-bye.  I  am  going  to  Australia 
on  business,  and  shall  sail  in  a  week.  I  am,  ofccourse,  much  occupied,  and  could 
only  run  down  for  to-night."  The  awkward  sentence  ended  in  a  pause  as  awk- 
ward. Francia's  cold  fingers  dropped  lifelessly  from  Fergus's  grasp,  and  she 
stood  silent  with  averted  face. 

"  Shall  we  walk  as  far  as  the  lake  ?"  asked  he  again.  "  I  have  not  seen  it 
rn  a  long  time."  Francia  mutely  turned  her  steps  in  that  direction,  and  walked 
beside  him  with  eyes  that,  looking  straight  before  her,  saw  nothing.  They  stood 
upon  the  border  of  the  little  lake  watching  the  shadow  of  the  hills,  the  duplicate 
crescent,  the  stars  that  momently  showed  more  closely  sown  in  the  heaven  be- 
low as  in  that  above.  Fergus,  the  iron  Fergus,  felt  the  influence  of  the  hour, 
of  his  approaching  departure,  of  the  memories  thronging  the  place  and  time, 
and  turning  to  his  cousin  took  her  hand  and  softly  asked,  "  Not  one  word  of  re- 
gret for  me,  Franc  ?  " 

She  snatched  her  hand  away,  asking  in  turn,  "  Do  you  remember  when  we 
last  stood  here,  Fergus  ?  " 

<(  Yes.  You  asked  me  if  you  should  keep  or  break  your  engagement  with 
Rafe,  Chilton." 

"  Yes,  and  do  you  remember  that,  when  I,  with  full  heart,  brought  my  sorrow 
and  my  perplexity  to  you,  you  threw  me  off  and  told  me  that  my  affairs  were  not 
yours,  and  that  you  would  not  interfere.  Do  you  suppose  that  one  such  rebuff 
is  not  enough?"  The  grief,  so  thinly  cloaked  by  indignation,  struggled  up  as 
she  spoke,  and  turning  to  meet  his  eyes,  her  own  suddenly  overflowed. 

"  That  was  long  ago,  Francia.  I  have  changed  since  then,"  said  Fergus, 
moodily  ;  and  turning  slightly  from  her,  he  bitterly  reviewed  the  months  of  the 
last  year. 

"  Yes,  you  have  found  what  it  was  to  love  unwisely  yourself  since  then,"  ex- 
claimed Francia,  hastily. 

Fergus  faced  her,  and,  with  his  imperious  eyes  on  hers,  asked  quietly,  "  What 
do  you  mean,  Francia  ? " 

"Nothing.     I  did  not  mean  to  say  that,"  replied  she,  in  confusion. 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  said,  and  now  I  must  know  what  it  means,"  said  Fergus,  with 
patient  persistence. 

"  Well,  then,  I  mean  that  when  you  thought  my  father  was  dead  you  loved 


172  CIPHER. 

Neria,"  said  Francia,  softly,  and  turning  from  him  to  pluck  the  leaves  from  the 
rustling  alder  at  her  side. 

Fergus  was  silent  for  some  moments.  At  last  he  slowly  said,  "  Some  years 
ago,  while  I  was  gunning  among  the  Berkshire  hills,  I  climbed  a  crag  to  reach  a 
gay  tuft  of  flowers  blooming  there.  As  I  drew  myself  up,  a  rattlesnake,  basking 
on  the  rock,  gave  an  alarm,  and,  before  1  could  retreat,  struck  his  fangs  into  my 
arm.  I  left  the  flowers  where  I  had  found  them,  and  seating  myself  at  the  foot 
of  the  rock,  took  out  my  hunting  knife,  cut  away  the  wounded  flesh,  and  then, 
heating  the  knife  at  the  fire  I  had  just  kindled,  cauterized  the  wound.  A  scar 
remains  that  no  time  will  efface,  and  it  was  long  before  I  could  forget  the  pain, 
but  I  was  cured." 

He  was  silent,  and  Francia,  still  plucking  at  the  alder  leaves,  said,  bitterly, 
"Yes,  such  a  scar  must  remain  through  life." 

"  Better  a  life-long  scar  than  a  coward's  lingering  death,"  replied  Fergus. 

"Yes,  your  will  decreed,  then,  that  through  torture  you  should  retain  your 
life  ;  it  decrees,  now,  that  through  other  and  finer  torture  you  shall  retain  your 
peace  of  mind  ;  but  the  body  is  forever  maimed,  the  heart  forever  crushed,"  said 
Francia,  gloomily. 

Her  cousin  turned  her  face  .to  his.  "Franc,"  said  he,  "why  did  you  escape 
through  the  window  just  now,  when  from  behind  the  curtain  you  heard  me  tell 
my  uncle  that  I  was  going  abroad  ?  " 

Francia  blushed  in  spite  of  herself.     "You  saw  me  then  ?" 

"  Yes,  saw  and  followed  you.     r  wanted  to  know  why  you  escaped." 

"To  avoid  the  necessity  of  saying  that  I  regretted  your  going,"  retorted 
Francia,  desperate  as  any  timid  creature  at  bay. 

"  That  answer  deceives  neither  you  nor  me,"  said  Fergus,  coolly.  "  Francia, 
two  years  ago  when  I  showed  you  that  I  loved  you,  or  could  love  you,  if  you 
had  met  me  frankly  and  generously,  as  my  love  demanded,  how  much  would 
have  been  spared  to  both.  You,  too,  wear  your  scars,  poor  child." 

"  Mine  is  not  the  scar  of  an  unrequited  love,"  interposed  Francia,  sharply. 

"  No,  but  of  a  desperate  attempt  to  love  an  unworthy  object.  Tell  me,  now, 
Francia,  why  did  you  engage  yourself  to  Chilton  ?  " 

"  He  loved  me,  and  you — you  had  never  said— I  thought  you  cared  for  Neria." 

"  Impatient  and  jealous,"  pronounced  Fergus,  remorselessly.  "  Do  you  know 
new  that  you  were  wrong  ?  Do  you  see  now  that  by  this  course  you  so  wounded 
my  love — " 

"  No,  your  pride,"  interrupted  Francia. 

"  Self-respect,  I  prefer  to  call  it,  and  in  my  nature  no  love  can  be  love  that  is 
at  war  with  this  quality.  This  self-respect,  Francia,  forbid  me  then  to  love  you 
who  had  so  doubted  me,  as  it  now  forbids  me  to  love  the  wife  of  another  man. 
This  is  the  knife  which  has  cauterized  my  moral  hurt,  and  well  is  it  for  me  that 
I  had  it  at  hand." 

Francia  turned  earnestly  toward  him.  "But  you  have  a  terrible  enemy,  Fer- 
gus, in  this  darling  self-reliance  of  yours.  It  is  this  that  stands  in  the  way  of 
pity  and  generosity,  and  all  the  gracious  virtues  that  you  lack." 

"  After  the  cautery  should  come  some  blessed  balm,  and  as  it  soothes  the 
burning  pain,  the  heart  finds  rest  and  room  for  these  gracious  virtues.  They  do 
not  spring  in  the  crisis  of  suffering  and  effort.  Some  such  soothing  balm  as  the 
love  of  an  affectionate  heart,  Francia." 

"  And  you  would  ask  such  love  with  nothing  to  offer  in  return  but  the  pleas- 
ure of  soothing  the  scar  of  an  unforgotten  passion  ?  "  said  Francia,  with  spirit 


CIPHER.  173 

"  Am  I  selfish  ?  Remember,  I  am  a  man,  and  it  is  for  you,  a  woman,  to  soften 
and  refine  my  nature,  nor  look  too  curiously  at  the  balance  of  benefit -4>etween 
us,"  said  Fergus,  somewhat  sadly.  "  Come,  little  Francia,  let  us  take  what  good 
is  left  to  us,  and  be  thankful  for  it.  Perhaps  we  never  can  go  back  to  the  glow 
and  glory  of  a  first  love  ;  perhaps  you  never  will  be  the  woman,  or  I  the  man 
we  once  were  to  each  other,  but  there  may  be  better  things  in  the  future  for 
us  than  we  can  now  imagine.  I  need  the  influence  of  your  warm  and  loving  na- 
ture, your  grace  and  gayety ;  and  you,  my  wilful  cousin,  will  be  none  the  worse 
for  a  little  training  in  law  and  order.  Will  you  go  with  me  to  Australia,  Francia, 
as  my  wife  ?  " 

Francia  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  facing  him,  frankly  said:  "No, 
Fergus.  I  do  not  like  the  way  you  have  asked  me  to  marry  you,  and  although 
you  seem  so  confident  of  my  consent  I  will  not  give  it  on  such  terms.  You  say 
I  love  you,  or  you  imply  it.  Well,  I  do  not  deny  that  I  do,  that  I  have  always 
loved  you,  and  that  my  engagement  to  Rafe  Chilton  was,  as  you  called  it  but 
now,  a  movement  of  impatient  jealousy.  And  yet  with  all  this  I  value  myself 
too  highly  to  take  the  position  you  would  assign  me.  My  love  shall  never  be 
used  as  a  balm  to  heal  the  wound  of  another  woman's  indifference  ;  I  will  not 
accept  permission  to  give  you  my  whole  life,  taking  in  return  such  scraps  and 
fragments  as  are  left  when  another  has  taken  all  that  is  best.  If  you  cannot  give 
me  the  '  glow  and  glory'  of  a  full  and  honest  love,  be  it  first  or  be  it  second,  I 
will  have  none.  I  will  never  follow  you  forlornly  through  the  world  on  the 
chance  that  some  indefinite  future  may  reward  me." 

"  And  yet  you  own  that  you  love  me,"  said  Fergus,  somewhat  bitterly. 

"  I  love  you  so  well  that  I  would  not  have  you  marry  a  woman  whom  you 
could  not  respect,  and  I  respect  you  so  much  I  know  you  could  not  really  love  a 
woman  who  would  accept  the  position  you  offer  me.  No,  Fergus,  I  love  you, 
and  I  refuse  you." 

Looking  steadily  into  her  face  the  young  man  read  there  a  determination 
equal  to  his  own  ;  a  dignity  and  self-respect  as  firmly  based  as  those  forming 
the  foundation  of  his  own  character.  Looking  deep  into  the  soul  standing  in 
that  moment  unveiled  before  him,  Fergus  saw  there,  qualities  he  had  never  be- 
fore acknowledged,  and  the  conviction  flashed  into  his  mind  that  should  he  lose 
the  prize  a  moment  before  so  undervalued  and  now  so  tantalizingly  withdrawn 
from  his  grasp,  the  loss  would  be  one  that  every  day  passing  over  his  head 
should  magnify  until  it  became  the  lasting  regret  of  his  life. 

"  Francia,  I  am  sorry  to  have  hurt  you — "  began  he  ;  and  Francia,  turning  to 
retrace  her  path,  said  quietly, 

"  I  am  sorry  you  did,  but  I  forgive  you  Fergus.  I  am  sure  you  will  regret 
it." 

She  moved  away  with  unaffected  decision  of  manner,  and  Fergus,  standing 
discomfited  and  humiliated,  where  she  left  him,  watched  the  lithe  figure  pass  out 
of  his  sight  beneath  the  dewy  arches  of  the  wood,  and  felt,  too  late,  the  terrible 
mistake  which  he  had  made.  And  Francia,  too,  despite  her  proud  and  resolute 
bearing,  did  she  not  feel  that  this  victory  was  almost  more  cruel  than  defeat? 
Reaching  the  first  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  terrace,  she  sank  down  upon 
them,  faint  and  trembling,  and,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  wished  bitterly 
that  she  might  never  stir  again. 

Half  an  hour  later  somebody  descended  the  steps  and  stood  before  her.  It 
was  Fergus,  who,  returning  to  the  house  by  the  more  direct  route,  had  seen  her 
from  the  terrace  and,  after  one  sharp  short  struggle  between  love  and  pride,  had 
come  to  say  : 


174  '     CIPHER. 

"  Francia,  I  was  very  wrong,  very  much  mistaken  in  what  I  said  to  you  just 
now.  I  .do  not  ask  your  love  without  return  ;  I  ask  it  as  a  great  and  precious 
gift,  and  I  offer  in  return  all  the  good  of  which  my  nature  is  capable.  I  love 
you  more  than  I  myself  know ;  more  than  I  ever  have  or  ever  can,  as  I  now  be- 
lieve, love  any  other  woman.  If  you  will  accept  this  love,  and  will  return  it,  you 
need  never  fear  that  I  shall  forget  how  much  it  is  for  me  to  ask  or  you  to  grant. 
Do  not  judge  me  by  my  words,  Francia  ;  they  are  cold  and  hesitating ;  but  you 
are  able,  as  you  showed  yourself  but  now,  to  read  the  thoughts  and  feeling  be- 
low the  words.  Read  my  heart,  dear  cousin,  read  it  thoroughly,  and  you  will  be 
content." 

He  sat  beside  her,  and  the  hands  clasping  hers  were  cold  and  tremulous  as 
her  own.  In  the  dim  light  Francia  saw  how  pale  his  face  had  grown,  how  ear- 
nest his  eyes,  how  tender  his  mouth,  and  a  great  joy  stirred  at  her  heart.  But 
the  next  instant,  with  a  cry  of  sudden  terror,  she  snatched  away  her  hands. 

"  O,  Fergus,  you  do  not  know  !  " 

"  Not  know  what,  Francia  ?     What  is  it,  dear  ?  " 

"  My  story — my  mother — "  • 

"  Good  heaven,  what  is  this  !  Francia,  you  alarm  me  inexpressibly.  Speak 
out,  I  pray  you." 

Francia  wrung  her  hands  despairingly.  "  You  do  not  know,  and  I  had  forgot- 
ten for  one  moment.  I  was  so  proud  and  glad  that  you  should  really  love  me  at 
last ;  and  now,  good-bye,  dear,  dear  Fergus,  it  can  never,  never  be — never  while 
we  live."  She  would  have  sprung  away  like  a  wounded  fawn  to  hide  her  mortal 
hurt  in  solitude ;  but  Fergus  seized  her  arm. 

"  No,  Francia,  you  shall  not  go  until  you  have  explained  these  strange  words. 
When  you  refused  me  just  now,  you  gave  your  reason,  and  a  good  one.  That 
reason  is  removed  by  what  I  said  just  now.  You  are  satisfied  on  that  point,  are 
you  not?" 

"  Yes,  fully  satisfied  ;  but  this  other  is  a  more  terrible  obstacle,  for  it  can 
never  be  removed.  Say  good-bye,  dear  Fergus,  and  let  me  go.  It  must  be  so." 

"Never,  Francia.  I  demand  an  explanation;  I  demand  it  of  your  justice 
and  your  honor,  and  if  you  are  what  I  think  you  I  shall  not  appeal  to  them  in 
vain,"  said  Fergus,  resolutely. 

"  Well,  then,"  cried  Francia,  desperately,  "have  it,  and  be  satisfied.  Mrs. 
Rhee,  my  father's  housekeeper,  was  an  octoroon  slave  whom  he  bought  at  public 
auction  in  Savannah.  My  mother  was  her  daughter  by  the  master  who  sold  her. 
My  father  married  this  free  daughter  of  his  slave,  and  I  am  her  child.  Now  are 
you  content  ?  " 

She  struggled  in  his  grasp,  and  when  he  would  not  let  her  go  fell  moaning  at 
his  feet  in  a  passion  of  shame  and  grief  too  deep  for  tears.  Fergus,  grasping 
her  wrists  with  unconscious  violence,  stood  looking  clown  at  her  in  mute  aston- 
ishment and  dismay.  Presently  he  raised  her  to  her  feet,  and  seating  her  again 
upon  the  step,  asked,  quietly  : 

"Will  you  promise  to  remain  here  until  I  return  ?" 

"  Yes,"  whispered  the  girl,  her  head  falling  helplessly  upon  her  breast,  her 
arms  and  nerveless  fingers  hanging  straight  beside  her. 

Fergus  looked  at  her  a  moment ;  and  then,  with  slow  and  measured  steps, 
disappeared  in  the  shadows  of  the  grove.  An  hour  had  nearly  gone  when  he 
returned,  and  seating  himself  beside  Francia,  who  had  never  moved,  put  his 
arms  around  her,  and  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast. 

"  So  let  me  shelter  you  so  long  as  we  both  live,"  said  he.     "  I  would  not 


CIPHER.  175 

yield  to  the  impulse  that  bid  me  say  so  at  first,  fpr  I  dared  not  trust  an  impulse. 
I  would  not  risk  wronging  you  by  saying  what  I  might  repent.  But  that  impulse 
came  from  the  inmost  chamber  of  my  heart  ;  it  is  as  vital  as  my  conscience. 
Francia,  darling  wife  that  you  shall  be  if  you  will,  never  fancy  that  I  remember 
this  in  the  future.  You  could  not  but  tell  me,  and  yet  I  would  have  you  forget 
that  you  have  told  me  as  soon  as  may  be,  lest  at  some  time  you  may  fancy  me 
so  base  as  to  point  at  it  should  I  treat  you  less  tenderly  than  I  ought." 

"  I  never  should  suspect  you  of  a  meanness,  Fergus.     I  know  you  too  well." 
"  But  this  secret,  Francia,  calls  for  such  added  consideration  and  delicacy  on 
my  part,  such  thoughtful  care  and  honor,  that  I  fear  my  own  harsh,  hard  nature  ; 
and  yet  if  I  understand  myself  at  all,  I  do  not  think  I  can  fail  to  make  you  feel 
how  all  my  life  and  hopes  and  chance  of  becoming  other  and  better  than  I  am 
are  bound  up  in  you.     Francia,  will  you  trust  me  ?" 
"  With  my  life,  and  my  soul,"  whispered  Francia. 

And  on  her  lover's  arm  she  leant, 

And  round  her  waist  she  felt  it  fold, 
And  far  across  the  hills  they  went 

In  that  new  world  which  is  the  old. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 
L'ENVOI. 

THE  story  is  done,  and  in  leaving  these  our  friends  and  sometime  associates 
to  the  chances  of  the  future,  we  may  please  ourselves  in  remembering  that  each 
and  all  of  them  have  learned  at  the  hands  of  lhat  stern  mentor,  Experience,  les- 
sons which  rightly  applied  should  insure  peace,  content  and  beneficent  influences 
to  the  coming  years. 

Forestalling  the  secrets  of  those  years,  we  may  fancy  Vaughn  and  Neria,  in 
harmony  at  last  with  each  other  and  with  life,  the  noble,  dignified  and  gracious 
heads  of  a  well-ordered  household,  ruling  their  children  and  their  dependents 
with  such  loving  wisdom,  such  mild  authority,  that  the  law  becomes  delight,  and 
obedience  is  as  involuntary  as  affection. 

We  see  Fergus  and  Francia,  returning  after  years  of  exile,  happy  in  them- 
selves and  in  each  other,  the  asperities  of  his  character  softened,  as  the  weak- 
nesses of  hers  are  strengthened  by  the  harmonizing  influences  of  time  and  love, 
and  we  no  longer  fear  lest  harshness  on  the  one  hand,  or  levity  on  the  other 
should  destroy  the  happiness  so  long  desired,  so  hardly  won. 

And  Claudia  ?  Yes,  let  us  hope  even  for  Claudia,  for  under  the  sin  and  pas- 
sion and  weakness  that  have  hurried  her  to  shipwreck,  lies  a  great,  strong  heart, 
a  heart  whose  deepest  fountains  were  *'irred  while  she  lay  upon  her  knees  at 
Neria's  feet  that  day  in  the  lonely  farm-house,  and  heard  that  the  husband  she 
had  wronged  would  even  yet  forgive  and  grant  her  the  opportunity  for  repent- 
ance that  she  had  counted  already  lost. 

Yes,  Claudia,  though  thy  sins  were  as  scarlet,  there  is  a  Fountain  wherein 
they  may  be  washed  white.  And  so,  bidding  them  and  you  good-bye,  O  friend, 
let  me  hope  that  what  has  been  told  may  have  taught  some  lesson,  however 
vague  ;  may  have  won  to  momentary  forgetfulness  some  aching  heart,  or  solaced 
an  idle  hour  for  those  whose  hearts  have  not  yet  learned  to  ache  ;  may  have 
stirred  an  aspiration  in  the  forecasting  mind  of  youth,  or  a  tender  memory  in 
that  of  age  ;  or,  failing  all  else,  may  have  awakened  one  friendly  feeling  toward 
the  narrator  who  lingeringly  and  regretfully  closes  this  the  happy  toil  of  months. 
THE  END. 


• 


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